


The Previous Lord's Adventure

by Queen_of_the_Ruckus



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family Bonding, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Union Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_the_Ruckus/pseuds/Queen_of_the_Ruckus
Summary: The Previous Lord's soul is still alive in Raizel, and he's got plans.(Chapter 7 is smut, do with that knowledge what you will.)
Relationships: Cadis Etrama di Raizel/Frankenstein (Noblesse)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Las Aventuras del Señor Anterior](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165155) by [Aratziel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aratziel/pseuds/Aratziel)



> Note: A big thank-you to everyone out there who's been creating Noblesse fan content! I've devoured it all greedily, and now it's only fair to return the favor. I hope you enjoy! ~

Numbers rapidly spill up the screen as his latest test processes. The hour is fairly irrelevant as there will be no school the next day, but he assumes that it is late. Frankenstein has set such alarms as to prevent himself from missing the important things, like tea and work, but otherwise has settled himself in his basement lab, sub-level 3. He is frowning down at an idea that most certainly won't pan out, when his connection to his Master goes dark. He stiffens, ice in his stomach. He reaches out for Raizel but is shocked to find that there is nothing there. He can't feel him through the bond.

His chair is on the floor and he's halfway to the elevator before the thoughts can distill to the point of proper consideration. _What could have happened? Is he asleep? In danger? Has he been overpowered? Surely not dead. Absolutely not dead. Asleep, then? Please God, just be sleeping, please Raizel-_ He takes the elevator because it is waiting on his floor, but regrets this choice as he can do nothing but pace during the ascent.

He flies to Raizel's room the instant he is able and is suddenly struck self-conscious outside of the elaborate door. He shuffles for a moment, before deciding that knocking is inappropriate under the circumstances. With great anticipation, he throws open the door-

-to an empty room. The curtains rustle in the breeze from an open window. Master's window.

Frankenstein stands frozen. This is too familiar, all too familiar. This same scene haunts his nightmares, both waking and Dark Spear-induced. The particulars are different, but the core of it remains: he stands alone in the room that Raizel used to occupy, window open, helpless.

_"Catch me if you can~"_

The words flit through his mind with a curious tilt to them, highly un-Raizel-like. The connection closes again in an instant and there is nothing else.

He jumps through the goddamned open window and runs as fast as is inhumanly possible, utterly destroying everything unfortunate enough to find itself beneath his feet, towards the fleeting beacon of a single errant thought.

He may or may not be entertaining such blasphemous thoughts as to lock his Master in a room with windows that can't open upon his return. Because he is most certainly going to return with him. He fights to keep his panic at bay with such frivolous thoughts, clinging to the strange snippet of something not quite his Master, but similar enough to investigate.

***

In the quiet house, M-21 bolts upright from a dead sleep, eyes suddenly wide. He slips cautiously from his room.

***

Frankenstein's head whips around and he skids to an abrupt halt in a crowded parking lot, smashing full-on into the side of a parked car that he was definitely not looking at and hardly seems to notice. The wind crushed from his lungs, he silences the alarms and the curiosity of passersby thoughtlessly with a bit of power, leaving behind the improbably dented vehicle without a thought. He'd caught a glimpse of his Master's profile as he was silhouetted against glaringly colorful lights, disappearing into what appears to be a bustling night club.

He makes his way inside (casually bending the perceptions of those around him so that he may slip past unhindered), breathing a little more controlled now that his Master is relatively contained within this space, and scans the tightly pressed throng of inebriated, undulating twenty-somethings. Upon not immediately locating him, he proceeds to (as systematically as is possible in the current environment) make his way through the crowd. He shifts his lab coat into something more appropriate as he attempts to recall what his Master might have been wearing. After what feels like an unbearably long period of time to poor Frankenstein, his eyes catch a glint of ruby and silver among the crush of bodies writhing on the dance floor.

Raizel appears happily crushed between a couple of enthusiastic dancers and Frankenstein is flooded with a complex cocktail of emotions. After a moment, Raizel catches Frankenstein's eye, performs a few dance moves that make his servant's face flush crimson, and then breaks away to meet with him at the bar. Raizel sits between a pair of occupied seats.

Frankenstein glares poisoned daggers at the occupant of the seat next to him until the man stumbles away in inebriated flight, an interaction spanning approximately 3 seconds. He plops down pointedly and turns to Raizel, utterly perplexed and rather upset. With great difficulty, he haltingly begins, "My Lord-"

Raizel tilts his head to the side, leaning his body sideways against the bar, hand pressing into his cheek, as he turns to face Frankenstein. A strange smile graces his face and his eyes light up in wicked glee. "Oh, you _are_ a bright one. You caught on faster than I expected! But really, I should have expected as much from you." Raizel cackles wildly.

Frankenstein chokes and just about dies.

"L- Lord? Previous Lord? Is that you? What the fuck? What the _Fuck_! What have you done! Aren't you supposed to be dead? Release my Master at once! Return him to me. Immediately." His composure begins to return as the words spill from him, tone evolving rapidly to one of fury and command.

"Hmm… Nope! Not yet, anyway. I'm having _far_ too much fun with this. And I'm not yet finished! Not by a long shot."

Frankenstein forcibly swallows down Dark Spear. Swallows the urge to punch this divine idiot in his Master's pretty face. He would sooner die than harm his Master's body, inhabited as it is by such bothersome trash. He repeats this to himself in the silence between them that follows, a litany of self-control.

Just then, one of the people that "Raizel" had been dancing with slides up to his other side and the Lord flips around smoothly to lean up close and pose enticingly. Dangerously indecorous words slip from Raizel's tongue, in Raizel's soft voice.

Violent tremors seize Frankenstein as his stomach clenches.

"Why yes, I _would_ like to go back with you to _your_ place." The Lord purrs as he batts Raizel's long lashes becomingly. "Would you like for it to be just the two of us, or should we attempt to find-"

The Lord's query is abruptly cut short as Frankenstein's hand grips his shoulder and jerks him back around roughly to face him. "What the _hell_ are you trying to pull? We're leaving."

Raizel's eyes are filled with amusement as he looks pointedly from Frankenstein's eyes to the hand on his shoulder and back.

Frankenstein immediately releases him, looking mortified. Raizel turns back to his suitor and apologizes." Apparently, my partner here is the jealous type. I regret that I must excuse myself. Perhaps we'll meet again at another time."

"Like hell," Frankenstein mutters, grasping Raizel firmly by the wrist and forcibly escorting him from the club, unwilling to risk losing him again to the crowd. His hand is a carefully controlled but nigh unbreakable vice around his delicate Master. His seething aura causes those closest to him to press away to avoid him and they make their exit without incident.

***

M-21, Tao, and Takeo find Frankenstein and Raizel, apparently having an altercation of some sort, in the middle of a street in downtown Seoul. They stop the car and stare, deliberating on whether they should pretend that they haven't seen them and just drive back home. They really don't want to be caught in crossfire that none of them could survive if the two of them _were_ fighting, and the situation definitely struck them as being above their pay grade. Besides, none of them would want to have to pick a side.

Frankenstein registers their presence just as Tao lets off the brakes to make a getaway, flagging them down irritably. 

"Perfect! Get in the car." Frankenstein pulls Raizel over to them, dragging him bodily by the arm.

"Ooh, how novel! Humans truly are wonderful. Who would have thought of such a thing? Does this run on electricity as well?"

Frankenstein ignores him. He opens the door to the back seat, shoves Raizel down and in through the door, pausing to flick on the child safety lock before slamming it shut. Raizel's cry of, "Hey!" is cut short.

He straightens, looks up into the heavens, and lets out a lengthy sigh. His foresight is immediately rewarded as the sounds of unsuccessful grappling with the door meet his ears. He abruptly turns on heel and marches to the driver's side door. Rapping on the glass, he motions for Tao to get out. Tao hops out energetically, nervous in the strange atmosphere. "Get in the back, Takeo's in the middle. Make sure he's buckled in properly. Takeo, mind your gun - keep it out of his reach."

"Um.. You want me to buckle Takeo in, Boss?"

Frankenstein turns to glower at him, aura positively oozing. "Tao, buckle in _Master_. I don't care what you do with Takeo."

Tao gulps and retreats.

The car is silent but for their shuffling around. Takeo leans over and delicately maneuvers the seat belt around Raizel's body, carefully avoiding any physical contact with the man. Raizel stares at him curiously, a calculating sharpness in his normally pensive gaze. "Excuse me, Sir." Takeo is fairly certain that he's seen Raizel do his own seatbelt before, but Frankenstein is making them all uncomfortable enough to follow his orders without question. Not that they normally question his judgment when it comes to Sir Raizel.

The instant they are settled, Frankenstein swerves off into the night. Heads slam back onto headrests and tires squeal. It feels good to have something to occupy his hands, something to occupy at least a bit of his mind. He is warring with the very confusing urge to wrap his hands around his Master's elegant neck and strangle the life from him. Or, more accurately, choke him into unconsciousness. But the urge also makes him want to vomit, tear out chunks of his own flesh, and jump off of a bridge from a fatal height. (Whatever that height would have to be, for a person such as himself.) So he does not. He definitely does not lay his hands on the man in the seat behind him, walking around in his Master's skin.

"Alright, I'll be the one to bite the bullet on this one. What the _hell_ was that, Boss? What's going on? " blurts M-21, back stiff and brow furrowed.

Frankenstein is quiet for a long, uncomfortable, drawn-out moment. Then he lets out another audible sigh. From the backseat, comes an excited exclamation, followed by squealing and wild gesturing that is entirely foreign and surreal, coming from Raizel's mouth and limbs. "Frankenstein, don't tell me- these are your _children_?!"

Frankenstein sighs and droops a bit over the steering wheel.

The trio are staring at Raizel as though he's just pulled off an elaborate mask and revealed himself to be Dr. Crombel. The hair on their arms and necks stands on end.

"Hmm… Or are these two yours and the wolf-kind Muzaka's? You know, I always wondered at his intentions with my dear Raizel. It's awfully _noble_ of you to play as step-parent to him~"

"Who are you?" Takeo demands seriously, frozen as Raizel fiddles with the end of a long locke of his hair.

"Boss??" Tao addresses Frankenstein, his tone rising as the word trails off.

"The Previous Lord of the Nobles. His soul made up the piece of Ragnarok that replenished Master. Please don't encourage him." Frankenstein glances severely at Raizel's reflection in his rear view mirror.

"Charmed, I'm sure," says Raizel's possessor, smiling and nodding at the dumbstruck trio.

"Where's Sir Raizel, then?" M-21 asks slowly.

"Is he in there, too? Can we… talk to him?" Tao asks, wide-eyed. "Please?"

"He is asleep within. I am looking after his soul!" A look of immense self-satisfaction slips across Raizel's normally stoic features. "Fear not, this is to his benefit. My poor Raizel is so tired! He only agreed to this on account of how I guilted him so... This is quite as good as going into a sleep for him, very similar you see. I am not drawing on any of his powers, everything that I do is from my own sliver of a soul." Here, his eyes slip shut as he places a hand over his chest, pausing for dramatic emphasis before speeding up his words. "And of course I promised that I would wake him in the case of danger to those he protects. Now, please explain to me the splendid color of your hair!" Raizel nods at Takeo," is this Frankenstein's work? How is this accomplished?"

Frankenstein ignores his questions, "Master agreed to this? You are being honest? This will truly buy him some time?"

"You're always so serious when it comes to your Master~ Of course! I'm a pretty great Lord, right? That didn't change just because I went into eternal sleep" he reaches out to poke Takeo's stiff shoulder, then giggles. "Oh, living like a human truly is splendid! Forget that stuffy court… Oh my poor darling Raskreia! I wonder if I could convince her in person that Raizel would be a better choice for Lord… Free her up to do stuff like this? _Though not frivolous courting, of course!_ Raizel still insists on fulfilling his duty, that much is obvious by the state of his soul. It would be a _Much_ better fate for him."

"No," growls Frankenstein, "You will, under no circumstances, take my Master with you to Lukedonia. His will is to live his life here."

"Heh! Like you could stop me. Still, it's unfair that you won't let me carry on here freely. Did you know that I don't even have a name anymore?! The only reason my poor Raizel didn't suffer the same fate is because his title was too terrible for him to bear. It was necessary to hide it from all but a few of the others, so he continued to be addressed by his name. I never even had the option. It would set my soul at ease to be able to live so casually for a while, even if it is fleeting."

"You old bugger, you should know I'll never let you use my Master like that. Resign yourself, you are to be confined until he awakens."

The Previous Lord seems unphased by this statement, and instead busies himself with observing the world outside the speeding car, absently pushing at buttons on the door and twirling Takeo's hair.

"... Why can't I feel Master in our bond? Are you blocking me?" Frankenstein stares hollowly at the lines flashing by on the road.

"Of course! You would surely stir him into waking back up. He's in terrible shape. The rest really is good for him. You surely agree."

He nods slightly, face rigid. "What were you even trying to do back there? Have you no propriety? Were you just trying to mess with me? Even _you_ should be possessed of more sense than _that_."

"Ha! ' _Posessed_.'" Tao snorts, despite himself. The Lord tilts his head back in self-satisfaction. Frankenstein ignores them both.

"Well, Raizel _so_ loves children, you know. He is so very lonesome without a family. I thought that creating a few lives instead of only ever ending them would bring light and meaning into his life above and beyond his duty. Like my sweet Raskeia did for me! I was unaware that the two of you had already acquired a handful. I am quite impressed! How long did it take to make them?! Surely not long. I gathered from my conversations with Raizel that he has only recently woken. Are they, perhaps, from before?"

Frankenstein appears to be having an aneurysm. The car slows down dramatically as his face and body twitch through a confusing flurry of emotional states. M-21 grabs the steering wheel from his unfeeling fingers and gently steers them off the road. He awkwardly reaches his leg over the partition, delicately pressing his foot down over Frankenstein's until the car is stopped, then shifts into park. He withdraws to his own side and swallows. Hard. What the hell was this guy implying?

"I… I don't know what to say to that."

"Ha! I never thought that _you_ would-"

"That was a fucking _man_! And you were trying to set up a God-fucking orgy! With _random human strangers_! Not five minutes after you took my Master out for a fucking joy ride! And what the _fuck_ do you mean to say about my relationship with Master, that you think we would have children together?! These are adopted! _Adopted_!!" a pause, "And they _aren't_ our children! I'm also a man, in case you hadn't noticed. We aren't together, he's my _Master_!" Frankenstein finishes breathlessly looking as though he truly might explode.

"Oh~ Now that's interesting," purrs the Lord in Raizel's voice, "You never figured it out, did you? Why you played house without a contract for so long back in Lukedonia? Or maybe you just won't admit to it. I wonder, what could be the reason? Raizel would gladly accept whatever you wanted to offer. And I am of the opinion that gender _hardly_ matters in these sorts of things~ For someone so brilliant, you really don't know very much about us."

The trio, at that moment, unanimously decide to bail. M-21 had just begun to reach out his hand towards freedom and Tao's fingers had barely grasped the door handle when Frankenstein barks out, "Stay!" And then, "I need you three to help protect and contain this _imbecile_." He turns his attention to the Lord this time, "You will drop this and return quietly with us. If you are truly not burning up Master's soul, then your resources will be severely limited. I doubt you can suitably defend yourself, and I'm not about to risk it. If I must restrain you, I will."

"Kinky," quips "Raizel", lips quirking in a wicked smirk, eyebrows flitting up suggestively before settling back down into a more challenging expression. It is all very disconcerting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Woohoo, first ever fanfic post! Thanks for reading! Grammar and spelling corrections, ideas, and general comments are encouraged! I apologize if the format is a little strange. I wrote it all on Google Drive on my phone… I'll post a new installment before too long. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't mind him, he picked up Korean in a nightclub."

It is in the wee hours of a Sunday morning that the household finds itself assembled in Frankenstein's lounge. Raizel is draped atop a couch as though it is his own throne in his own castle back in Lukedonia. The trio is seated stiffly on various pieces of furniture around the room, granting Raizel a wide berth, each of them keeping uneasy tabs on both Raizel and Frankenstein.

Frankenstein remains standing. He notices his flickering aura and with an effort, reigns it in. He addresses the room, “So! Certain events have transpired tonight that require explanation and alterations to all of your work schedules,” Frankenstein brings his hands together in a single clap, “Care to take the floor?” His eyes meet the false Raizel’s.

“You have a lordly command over your clan, Frankenstein. I am suitably impressed! To begin with, for my part of the scheduling, I will tell you that I will be spending my time exploring the area and living the life that Sir Raizel seems to be enjoying so well. He assured me that living as a human is most rewarding and pleasant. He has cautioned me against queuing in the members of his school to our change, and so I anticipate staring sorrowfully out the largest available window-”

“No, try again. I want the details and duration of your arrangement with my Master, and an update on his condition. We can discuss your _plans_ after that.” His head tilts forward dangerously, eyes remaining locked on Raizel's.

“Ah, but why should I explain our arrangement to you? Perhaps the details were meant to stay between Raizel and myself. _Personal_. What if he merely meant to gift me with a taste of his new life?”

“You jumped through an open window the instant you had him in your clutches and then proceeded to entice strangers into laying their filthy hands on his body. You don’t have the luxury of deciding your fate, at this point. And if my Master did indeed intend for this to be kept hidden from me, then it is surely to his detriment in some way and I will end it. Tell me or I will force your hand and awaken him.”

The trio are all very uncomfortable at this point, but the train wreck is too fascinating for them to turn away or let their attention wander for even an instant. M-21 is entertaining some mental images of apparently divine inspiration and is wearing the evidence of this quite plainly. Fortunately, Frankenstein has eyes only for his Master’s possessor in this moment and neglects to notice.

The amused look that crosses Raizel’s face tells him that the Previous Lord is calling his bluff.

“I’ll stand on the rooftops and brandish Dark Spear at the sky until somebody from the Union notices and shows up to investigate, if necessary. Or I could just attack M-21, here.” M’s trance is broken and he gulps audibly, rapidly glancing back and forth between the two with wide eyes. “You are to wake him if any threats are posed to the ones that he has taken under his wings, correct? Or maybe I should just kick Shinwoo’s ass a bit, he’s had it coming for a while now with all the crumbs…” He trails off a bit wistfully, imaginings of violence serving to soothe him. "He could take it." The ghost of a smile flits across his lips for a moment as he nods faintly to himself.

“What makes you think that I would wake him for something so trivial as a contrived and non-lethal scuffle between his companions? But I digress: My dear Raizel speaks highly of a food called “ramen” and I believe that it is one of your responsibilities to provide it?”

He raises an imperial hand to halt Franken’s impending meltdown, a wave of oppressing power bearing down on everyone gathered.

“Let’s just say, for the sake of this conversation, that I may have lied to Raizel on this one small point. I have no intention of waking him only to have him throw himself headlong into death with all the earnestness of a suicidal Krasis Blerster. No one needs that, so you’re just going to have to try something else. Now onto topics that matter!” Raizel’s hands clap twice, as though to bring the topic to a close.

“Karias’ predecessor was... different,” Frankenstein supplies absently to Tao, his mouth already open to inquire about this point of confusion. “Well… I will admit that what you said would make it easier for all of us, in keeping Master safe…”

“See! Now, about that ra-”

“But that also means that you’re lying to either my Master or to myself. I can’t just take your word that he is safe and well, or that he is even still there. Show him to me. Open the bond so that I can see for myself.” His face is pale and his stature seems to have diminished slightly, a little less tall, a brush less broad. His body looks taught and strained.

Raizel appears to consider this for a moment before nodding graciously, arm sweeping out to present his open palm to his old acquaintance. Frankenstein crosses the room mechanically, his own movements not registering in his mind, the broken thought that his Master might already be gone fighting to swallow him in numbness. The trio of onlookers shuffles uncomfortably, bracing themselves to fall upon the man who looks like Sir Raizel should Frankenstein’s fear prove to be founded.

Frankenstein stops immediately in front of his Master’s form, grasping the proffered hand delicately while reaching past with his empty hand to rest his fingers against the side of his Master’s face. Amusement washes over those graceful features before crimson eyes slip shut. “Careful, now,” he breathes.

Frankenstein shivers slightly at his Master's whisper. His breathing stills and his eyes flicker closed. He finds the patch of inky blackness in his soul like it's a magnet to his ferrous thoughts. Slowly, delicately, he applies the barest pressure. The darkness melts away like nothing and he brushes against something warm and vibrant and familiar. His soul is the color of his eyes when they glow from within, eternally bringing to mind the first moments of their contract. Raizel feels peaceful in his sleep, curled up into himself. He stirs gently at the touch of his Bonded. _Cute._

Frankenstein lingers for a moment in his presence, basking in the comfortable glow. Then the darkness coalesces and pushes him back into the confines of his own silhouette. Eyes blink open and he lets out the breath he'd been holding.

***

"So! Now that the old man's gone away, his sexy kittens are free to come out to play~ Or so the humans say." The Lord pauses to slurp up some more noodles. "So I can be me and you can be you, and my dear, sweet Raizel can slumber on in blissful ignorance. How are the experiments going, by the way? Do you need any more blood or other useful bits from me? I assume that you're still working on them and not just spending your off time in the basement, in the company of your own hand?

Takeo drops his spoon back into his bowl, splashing broth across the pristine table.

"Don't mind him, he picked up Korean in a nightclub." Frankenstein hands Takeo his own napkin to aid in dabbing up his mess. Ignoring the Previous Lord, Frankenstein addresses Tao instead. "So, I'm going to need you to work overtime until Master wakes up. I'll compensate you accordingly."

Tao brightens considerably. "Absolutely, Boss! Anything you need." His eyes are already glazing over with plans for spending said compensation. "So how long do you think you'll be staying with us, uh, Boss's Boss's… _Boss_?"

"Oh, I'd settle in for a good long visit. Until further notice is given? The foreseeable future?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! 
> 
> This chapter isn't as full of shenanigans as I would have liked, and a few things will have to happen before *smut*, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I actually wrote this after I had sorted out what I now intend to be chapter 3, so I'll have the next one out soon.
> 
> See you all again shortly~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once a Lord, always a Lord...

Frankenstein hangs up the phone with a huff. In some ways, he supposes it's a good thing. The Noble children would be spared from his… questionable influence, after all. But on the other hand, which was, in truth, more representative of the bulk of his feelings, he cursed Gejutel with the force of a hundred thousand seething souls for his decision to withdraw them. Having Seira, Regis, or even Rael around would have made his myriad tasks immeasurably easier. He supposes he will just have to count it as a loss and move on. He hadn't actually expected that he'd be able to snag Gejutel as a handler, after all, and he knew that getting Raskreia to do anything in light of the situation had been worse than futile. But to be denied the assistance of _any_ of them? Well, that was just hurtful.

"Goddamned useless retiree," he mutters, a little bit of the spark retreating from his eyes as he resigns himself to the situation at hand. He can't even find it in himself to be angered at the snub towards his Master. After all, it was much more accurately a snub to-

"Oh, were you just conversing with Gejutel K. Landegre? Does that device mimic-"

"GAH!" The ungainly shriek escapes him unabridged. Goosebumps creep up his arms like Dark Spear as he pivots on the spot to find Raizel loitering casually inside the locked sanctuary of Frankenstein's own bedroom, head set at an uncharacteristically dramatic tilt. The unfamiliar expression on his Master's face sends a shiver up his spine. He isn't even close to getting used to this. It has only been a couple of days, after all.

" _Oh_ , did I startl-"

"TAKEO!" he bellows, hammering down on each individual syllable as though it is a separate word, and drawing it out to a higher pitch at the end.

***  
When Frankenstein's world had been so abruptly shifted, he had acted immediately to mitigate the chaos that was surely about to rain down upon all of them from his Master's… guest.

He had made his excuses to the faculty and staff of YeRan (accented with a bit of his own power to smooth the edges of his distracted words) and set Tao in charge of the school in his absence. M-21 had been placed in charge of handling school security (with Tao behind the cameras), as the place was far too vulnerable without its resident Noble attendees and its enhanced, Noble-contracted, and heavily armed chairman.

To account for the absences of his Master and the Noble children from school, Frankenstein had devised a false "state of emergency" for whatever imaginary place his students thought they hailed from, recalling them all home. In all, it wasn't too far from the truth, as all the best lies were. Tao was also in charge of spinning up bullshit news updates and a believable provenience for the ruse.

_Tao can handle it. He's built to multi-task. In all likelihood, he's also juggling an RPG and a Korean soap opera or two on the side._

Takeo was in charge of watching his "Master" during normal business hours and the bulk of the daytime, freeing up Frankenstein to perform experiments in his basement lab like the madman he was. After hours, the first shift belonged to Tao, and the second to M-21.

He was hoping to hit a breakthrough in restoring Raizel's life span during the period of his Master's absence, when no one was around to stop him. Or, at least, that had been the plan. The problem lay in the potency of the Previous Lord's power, and in the fact that it didn't spend like Raizel's.

By all accounts, Takeo should be the one currently on guard duty.

***  
 _Why doesn't he just pour that obnoxious last little bit of himself into shoring up my failing Master?_ he thinks in frustration.

"Because the transfer of soul to life-force is _hardly_ one to one, and because I would then lack the ability to allow dear Raizel to lick at his wounds, as I am presently. This is a better allocation of resources. It really _is_ just a sliver, I'm afraid. The rest has already been converted," the Lord provides without verbal prompting. They are walking together down the hall to the lounge, the last place Frankenstein can recall having seen Takeo.

Frankenstein grimaces, unamused.

"Oh, don't let your pretty feathers get all ruffled by it. I'm wrapped around your bond! I have it folded off so you can't get through, but you're still trying. And you aren't filtering very much. Are you talking to yourself more now to fill the silence from his end? Or were you always this chatty… Attempting to talk over your weapon, perhaps? Would you like for me to fill in for Raizel in his absence? Play pretend, if only for a while?" he shoots Frankenstein his best impression of Reserved Raizel but with undertones of seduction, causing the other's aura to flare up menacingly.

It has gotten progressively harder for Frankenstein to control Dark Spear fully as the passage of time seems to have slowed to a near stand-still. He was used to feeling just the tiniest bit of Raizel in what seemed like the base of his skull, an ever-present talisman through the ages. It was something like a lock of hair or a photograph, a reminder of what would one day be waiting for him, should he prove worthy. In the nights before his Master's return he had nestled against it like a child would a stuffed toy, desperately grasping at it for comfort.

He wasn't Bonded with the Previous Lord. His presence was like velvety nothing to him. It didn't feel so much like a presence as it did a soft absence. And it _certainly_ wasn't helping him sleep at night. Echos of what could almost be described as words were beginning to seep into the background of his head space, leaving it slightly saturated, despite his intact seal. At night, when he attempted to relax himself just enough to let go of his waking thoughts, the voices of the damned grew more distinct.

"Do not suggest that again."

The Previous Lord chuckles softly to himself as they cross the threshold into the lounge, apparently unconcerned with Frankenstein's mood. Takeo lies draped across the rich leather sofa, a small glimmer of drool visible on the fabric below his slightly parted lips. His hair is intricately laced in an improbable number of impossibly dainty braids. It looks as though it will require professional help to return to its original state. Perhaps the help of several professionals. His chest hardly moves as he breathes.

"Pretty, isn't he? It seems as though you've dispersed your qualities evenly amongst your little peachicks. It's such a shame I couldn't take stock of which ones manifest in the Noble children! I wonder which traits they might embody... Meeting your Beauty, Intellect, and Insolence has been a great joy to me, though I also look forward to seeing what Raizel has contributed... Well, knowing you, they also all have a good bit of Fight mixed in. Still, though. It's spread evenly!"

As Raizel's voice dithers on in its winding assertions and assumptions on Frankenstein and the other members of his household, Frankenstein crosses the room to measure Takeo's pulse. _Miss Seira holds herself as Master does, she copies his movements and mannerisms so carefully._

"Does she now! Oh, how sweet. So your adopted Noble daughter looks up to her adopted Noble father?"

"Cut that out," Frankenstein snaps a bit absently. "How long has he been out?"

"Oh…" Raizel's eyes drift up as though to recall the passage of time, "Well, how long ago did you leave us?"

***  
With a further bit of tweaking to the group's responsibilities and schedules, things seemed to have settled down enough for Frankenstein to spend some serious time in his lab, his concern over the Previous Lord's activities minimal in the face of the condition of his Master's soul. Tao had gleefully accepted the additional task of arranging entertainment for the Lord, which had, in turn, apparently reduced the Previous Lord's inclination towards causing mischief with his employees.

Over the last few weeks his Master could be observed watching movies or television shows, playing video games, or listening to music as a sort of cultural crash course with his guard-of-the-hour. Not that Frankenstein held much of a desire to observe him, as the bemused and downright _lordly_ expressions on his Master's face, often accompanied by lewd or other such un-Raizel-like utterances was supremely upsetting to him, even now. Occasionally, the entire trio could be found assembled with _him_ in the living room, all paying rapt attention to some film or another. Amusingly, Frankenstein figured that this was also a useful pass time and bonding activity for his employees. Their own memories spanned only a handful of years since the Union had tampered with them, so an immersion into the culture was of benefit to all of them. And it was always good to encourage a greater sense of comradery, though Frankenstein didn't care to delve too deeply into Tao's choices for the group. His Master wasn't directly observing, so it was of little importance to him.

With a pang, Frankenstein felt the acute absence of his own bonding activities with his Master. Tea. How long had it been since he had last served his Master with an offering of tea? It was a rhetorical question, as Frankenstein knew, down to the minute, the exact quantity of time that had passed. He just didn't want to think about it.

The Previous Lord was not someone who Frankenstein had ever felt even remotely beholden to. It pained him physically to think about serving him or acknowledging him in any way. But right now he _needs_ something. He requires the comfort of the ritual, a reminder that his Master has returned to him, that the time that he has spent with him since his return has truly and genuinely occurred. He is afraid of losing touch with this fragile reality. Of losing Raizel again, or having never truly found him in the first place. His Lover whispers in his ear of tragedy and loss, and abruptly, he finds himself in need of a break.

He heads off into the evening streets at a brisk pace (for a human), making a beeline for his favorite local tea shop. The night air feels good against his skin and within his lungs, and he feels a bit self-satisfied that he has managed to lock himself away for so long with his work when he has historically been prohibited from such actions.

As the chairman of a school with such attendees as Han Shinwoo, Frankenstein is fairly accustomed to receiving acknowledgement from youths that might be construed as being "rough" or "delinquent" in appearance. In his experience, and with his particular level of skill, such individuals do not concern him insofar as they are not tarnishing the reputation of his school.

On this night he finds himself passing a number of rough-looking characters, though they all seem respectful enough, bowing slightly to him and respectfully allowing him to pass without needing to alter his course.

 _Very courteous_ , he smiles softly to himself.

To get around the matter of wanting to serve his Master without serving the Previous Lord who occupies him at the same time, Frankenstein's internal debate has taken a turn towards quantum superposition, as he grasps at straws to make peace within himself. _That man both is and is not my Master. I haven't observed that sealed box in some time, why not just carry on as though it were an unknown? As though I never had? I would gladly serve an entity that I suspected of being Raizel, so why would I not serve the entity that both **is** and **is not** my Master? Not that I would ever leave my Master on his own in an unknown situation that involves a flask of poison, because that **surely** is nothing like the current situation, but if I can't rightly say that this isn't Raizel… And my Master **does** bear a striking resemblance to a cat in many ways…_

His spine stiffens as though he has been struck by a mild jolt of electricity. _Such blasphemy! My Master is much too far above any common animal to warrant such a comparis-_

"Are you alright, Sir?"

Frankenstein is shaken from his desperate internal attempts at self-delusion enough to look into the eyes of what appears to be a common street thug. His hair is artfully and carefully styled atop his head, and his posture is almost unnaturally straight. Elaborate tattoos peek out from around the edges of his clothes.

"Why, yes. I'm fine, thank you for asking." A touch of puzzlement creeps into his features. "Just a bit lost in my own thoughts, I'm afraid."

"That's good to hear, Sir," the much younger man replies earnestly. He nods to him, pulling up his sleeve to show off a rather artful tattoo; crisp, bright, and new in appearance. "Please don't hesitate to let us know if you need anything."

Frankenstein stares at him in blank astonishment for an uncomfortable span of time. He looks back at the exposed tattoo. It's a depiction of a phoenix, rather graceful, and with an elaborate cross in the foreground.

_Oh. Fuck._

He turns back the way he has come and runs, barely bothering to keep to human speeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I would like to extend my deepest and most sincere apologies to the late Dr. Erwin Schrödinger, who's work I have unabashedly and heinously misused and wrongly interpreted for this chapter. If you aren't familiar with it, you should Google "Schrödinger's Cat". 
> 
> I would also like to let you all know that I know next to nothing about South Korean gangs. 
> 
> Let me know if you spot anything that needs to be fixed!
> 
> Edit: I talk too much. End notes have been shortened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gangland faerie tale.

_**A few weeks earlier:** _

The Previous Lord stares out at Tao through Raizel's ruby eyes, amusement and anticipation coloring his expression. Tao stares right back, fidgeting uncomfortably. He reaches out absently to take another of the snacks that he's set out for his Boss's Boss and crunches it absently. Raizel's body leans in towards Tao and Tao scoots farther away in his seat. Raizel's eyebrows raise and Tao suppresses a shiver. Raizel's mouth opens wide as though to speak, then shuts abruptly as M-21 opens the door to the lounge, somehow managing to be loud without slamming it.

He pauses, observing the scene. He raises an eyebrow at Tao. “He making a pass at you or something? Why’re you all the way over there?”

“Heh!” barks Tao, a little weakly. “I just don’t know what to make of this. I mean, I was just starting to get used to being around Boss’s Boss and now..,” he trails off, hand tipping up to gesture vaguely in Raizel’s direction.

“Yeah, no. I get it.”

“What did you do with him during your shift?”

“Watched shows, mostly. Didn’t talk much.”

“What did Takeo do?”

“Same thing, I think. Though he also told me he spent most of today fiddling with his hair, trying to get it to lay flat.” M-21 suppressed a smirk.

Two sets of eyes slide over to where the Previous Lord has leaned back in his seat and is observing them as though they, themselves, are a show on tv.

“You know, I really miss Regis. I think he might actually have some idea of what to do in this situation.”

“You need backup?” M-21 asks seriously, “You know what, why don’t we all hold down the fort together tonight? At least until we can get into a routine and figure out how we’re supposed to handle this.”

Tao’s relief is palpable. As M-21 slips out his phone to text Takeo, the Previous Lord grins gleefully. He raises himself up in his seat, displaying the barest glimpse of lordliness. “Splendid! I want to see this town that my Raizel is so fond of.”

Their heads whip around and they stare at him incredulously. “Not happening. Frankenstein would feed us to Dark Spear. I’m not joking.” M-21’s face is studiously blank.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too concerned with that if I were you. Would you prefer to be the ones who lost his Master, or the ones who followed his Master when given the chance? You can _protect_ me from all the strange humans I might encounter! That is his concern, no?”

“Uhh, well, something like that. You’re saying that you’re leaving regardless and you’ll allow us to go with?” Tao asks, resignation creeping into his voice.

M-21 hurriedly deletes the ‘hey, man’ that he had typed, replacing it with ‘Emergency. Lounge’. Seemingly faster than a text could have traveled through digital space, Takeo materializes to stand in the living room with the rest of them.

“Oh, good to see you again, Takeo! How was your rest?” inquires the Previous Lord pleasantly.

“So… What’s stopping us from subduing you and alerting Frankenstein?” Takeo asks, after being briefed on the situation.

Raizel’s head tilts back, an unsettling predatory smile across his lips. He raises an eyebrow and all three modified humans find themselves frozen in place. A strange pressure grips their limbs, their lungs, preventing them from crying out or attempting to flee. The Lord takes this opportunity to make eye contact with each of them in turn, pausing for a moment as his point is conveyed. Abruptly, they are free.

A few minutes pass in terse silence as they swap their house shoes for regular ones, and then they are gone into the night.

***

 _All things considered, this is a fairly harmless time for “Raizel” to be out on the town. At least we’re unlikely to encounter anyone we know._ Tao pauses for a moment to fully take in the scene before him. A supremely powerful possessed Noble waltzes regally down the sidewalk, humming tunelessly to himself while sipping chocolate milkshake through a straw. His companions flank him like an honor guard, solemnly sharing fries amongst themselves and sipping their own drinks while covertly scanning the area for potential threats or issues. _I’m going to have to modify a whole bunch of security footage to keep this off of Boss’s radar. But at least most people are home and most businesses have already closed for the night._ He skips forward a few steps until he is back in his own position and the group turns toward the direction of home.

Earlier that evening, the trio had set up a covert group chat on their phones and silently laid out a few ground rules that they thought it pertinent to follow.

Avoid the Frankenstein.  
Avoid YeRan.  
Avoid alcohol.  
Avoid confrontation.  
Avoid crowds.  
Keep “Raizel” within arm’s reach at all times.  
Cover their tracks.  
Leave after Frankenstein has checked on them for the night.  
Return before dawn.

If any of them could recall having a childhood, this situation might have brought some part of it to mind. In the absence of this, they were all deadly serious about the matter at hand, their charge, and their vow of secrecy. Even their group identity, as embarrassing as it was, was treated with an air of seriousness when they found themselves called to action. And the RK had, indeed, been called into action.

With solemn solidarity, the group had proceeded to show the Previous Lord around the tamest parts of town. They had picked up a few movies at a late-night shopping center, and the Previous Lord had seen fit to select for himself a silken robe from a vendor at a night market. Tao had funded these expenditures, as it was his shift that they were all helping to cover and “Raizel” had absolutely no funds or concept of currency. _I won’t even be reimbursed for this,_ he thought bitterly.

They had stopped for some late-night snacks, and now the group was attempting to shepherd “Raizel” back home, using the movies as a bribe. They were hoping to be settled in and happily watching one by the time dawn broke over Frankenstein’s house.

Unfortunately for them, fate wasn’t having it.

As they turn down a side alley, M-21 subtly fighting with the Previous Lord for the lead, “Raizel” collides bodily with a man of immense stature and not a few companions. The man he collided with stumbles back a step. The Previous Lord does not. The larger man pauses, face clouding over in confusion.

Immediately M-21 slips between them, blocking him bodily from view. Tao grabs “Raizel” by the arm, and Takeo moves to ensure they have a clear exit from the alley.

One of the thug’s companions is the first to speak. “Woah, man. What the hell?” He isn’t addressing them, instead turning towards the man with whom “Raizel” had collided. Amusement and mild wonder color his voice. "Did he just jiu-jitsu your ass or somethin’? That scrawny guy knocked you over?”

The larger man, still puzzling over the physics of their encounter, shrugs in response to his friend and attempts to lean around M-21 to get a better look. The Previous Lord similarly leans around M-21, eyebrows raised and eyes sparkling with interest. As their eyes meet over the shoulder of the surly werewolf hybrid, the burly man shrugs again. This time the gesture is directed at him. “Hey, man. How’d you do that? You’re seriously slim. You do martial arts or something?”

 _Shit._ Tao thinks with rising concern. His attempts at dragging the Previous Lord to safety are playing out about as well as Rael’s courtship attempts with Seira. _With my luck this asshole will be a taekwondo black belt or some shit. We really should avoid a fight._

“Yes, actually! I’m a taekwondo black belt,” the Previous Lord parrots smoothly, the term stolen straight from Tao’s stream of consciousness.

 _Shit!_ Tao’s internal scream echoes in the Previous Lord’s mind. He ignores it and carries on with the conversation.

“Cool, man! That’s so fuckin’ sweet! If you could do that when you weigh, like, nothin', what do you think I could do with skills like that?” the larger man practically gushes.

“Incredibly inhuman things, I’m sure.”

“Hey, you guys wanna hang with us for a bit?”

“Oh, most definitely!”

The Lord slips out from behind M-21 and moves to stand before his shiny new friends. The level of emotion and social grace evident in “Raizel’s” interactions with this street thug is still shocking to the trio of modified humans. Dazzled as they are by this turn of events, the group falls quietly into step. Bonding with a group of common street thugs is vastly preferable to fighting them in this situation, after all.

As the night carries on, they find themselves chatting and enjoying the pleasant company of their almost-attackers. Takeo discusses the various difficulties inherent in having long hair in combat with a similarly, albeit less splendidly, pony-tailed rough-neck. M-21 finds one of their new companions to bear a striking resemblance to M-35 in both personality and appearance. Tao keeps several of the burly men dazzled with his dizzying discourse on cyber crime. The Previous Lord’s enjoyment radiates like a sun, as drinks and banter are passed around. By some miracle, he always seems to know just what to say. By the time the apparent ring-leader of the small band feels comfortable enough to disclose their gang affiliation with the newcomers, the modified humans are far too immersed in their own pleasant interactions to care.

***

Over the coming weeks, they repeated what had become their ritual. The modified humans switched up their guard-duty shifts to allow for a rotating sleep schedule, and nearly every night they would venture out with new and exciting “friends”. Despite their best efforts, they were wildly unsuccessful at diverting the Previous Lord’s train wreck. The Previous Lord had graciously declined the initial offer for them to join as members of the gang they had met on their first night, but had continued to meet up with them amicably. Eventually, he had been introduced to several of the higher-ups in an attempt at recruitment. It was when he was in the company of persons of authority that Raizel really seemed to shine. For he had begun to refer to himself as “Raizel” when in the company of these interesting humans.

On the odd nights when Tao or Takeo or M-21 was successful in curbing their excursions, it was largely under the guise of furthering Raizel’s education on the groups he was moving through. Mafia movies and gangland tv shows were all that seemed to hold his interest. Any effort to introduce media for the express purpose of casting them in a bad light was immediately gleaned from their minds, their movie offerings rejected.

***

“Why doesn’t Frankenstein take any notice?” Takeo asks in dismay one evening, his attempt at diverting the Previous Lord’s attention a horrendous failure. “I thought his Master was his world!”

“That man is not his Master,” M-21 says solemnly. “And I can see now that he’s earned every foul thing Frankenstein’s ever said about him.”

“Oh, he was always trying to dodge me back in Lukedonia. I can’t imagine that his desire to be in my company has changed all that dramatically.” The Lord’s tone is light and aloof as he paces the length of the aisle between rows of adjustable seats. “Now be still so the good man here can do his work!”

The air of command is suffocating, but M-21 chooses this moment to make a stand. “I don’t care what he does to us, this isn’t right. You can’t force us to pay for this!”

“Oh? Are you going to call out to that peacock? I’ve been restraining myself on account of how you three fret, but if it’s no longer something I can postpone…” Raizel’s soft voice trails off as his eyes search the room.

“You wouldn’t.” M-21’s voice is a growl.

“Sir, I think I would like a new piercing while these three are waiting.”

“You won’t.” his voice cracks slightly.

“This one. Right here, please!”

“NO, DON-!”

M-21’s yell is drowned out by the shouts and cries of the others. Raizel now has a silver stud embedded in his ear, an artful distance above the cross seal he wears out of necessity.

“And I think I would also like-”

“God, no. Stop. We’ll do it. Just fucking _stop_. Please,” M-21’s voice is hoarse and quiet.

“I’m so glad! Free will _is_ of the greatest importance, after all. As long as it’s what you want.” His grin is almost evil under the glow of fluorescent lights.

The tattoo artist wielding the piercing needle stares at them all, eyes wide in alarm. Black aura swirls briefly around him, calming him. He works tirelessly, though it takes him several sessions over several days to finish all of the work he has been given. He takes pride in his art, and it is truly beautiful. And in the following days, more of the same tattoos are purchased from the usual gathering of street thugs and known gang members.

This leads to that, and that leads to this...

***

And so, night after night the trio found themselves in the company of common street thugs and gang members of increasingly high rank at the behest of their captive-turned-captor.

And night after night, their hands grew dirtier and they could see how far from harmless their adventures had truly come.

***

_**Present:** _

Frankenstein's trip home is filled with self-reproach, mixed with roughly equal parts fury and fear. Golden hair splays out behind him like a banner as he all but flies, blue eyes darkening with the weight of his suspicions and the implications of what he has just witnessed.

He knows what it looks like. It _looks_ like someone has either started or gained control of a human street gang. Someone whose symbol is a cross between his Master’s and the Previous Lord’s. Someone who has informed the members of said gang of his own involvement or status of protection. From the number of similar people he has crossed paths with this evening, it was either one very large gang, or several smaller gangs banded together. He can curse the Previous Lord all he wants, but he knows who is truly at fault here.

_How the hell did I let myself get played like this? I should **never** have left him unsupervised. What made me think that those three were up to it? Am I so easy to manipulate, or was I just too caught up in my own schemes to care enough to notice that old bugger's nonsense?_

Frankenstein can hear the vague whispers of echoing laughter in his mind. He _knows_ what his Lover will have to say on the matter, but he isn't about to think it on their behalf. He shuts out those thoughts completely.

What he needs to focus on now is finding the extent of the Previous Lord's activities and crushing all that he has accomplished over the preceding weeks. He shudders to think just how much damage he could have caused already, in what situations he’s placed his vulnerable Master.

Then he’ll come up with a solution to keep him contained until he can be exorcised from his Master.

He bursts through the door to the living room to find all three of his employees and his Master assembled around the television. A movie blares loudly in what sounds like Japanese, subtitles flashing by in Korean. His three modified human employees are frozen stiffly in their seats, each of them dressed suspiciously in their long-sleeved work uniforms, though without the identifying armbands that tie them to the school. They appear to be sweating. _Guilty bastards_ , he judges.

His Master’s body is stretched rather luxuriously across his favorite couch, wearing what appears to be a short silken bathrobe, inky black contrasting starkly against his skin, accentuating his scarlet gaze.

Frankenstein gulps audibly, despite himself. He tears his eyes away from what he should not see, forcing himself to look into his Master’s face, determined to confront this harebrained harbinger of disaster. His gaze snaps to a new glint of silver peeking out from beneath the curtain of his raven hair. It is unfamiliar to him, when every aspect of his Master has been etched into his mind for the past thousand years. “ _What is that?_ ”

Tao is the first to regain his power of speech. “Oh, shit. I think he knows.”

_Oh, good, _he thinks, pulse quickening as his Lover seeps into his veins,_ Tao can be the first to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Potential question: Would a tattoo last on a human with modified healing abilities?  
> Potential answers: Idk, doesn’t Raizel’s ear stay pierced when he has special healing abilities? Unless he has to re-pierce it every time he gets a new earring... Oh! M-21 has that tattoo on his wrist, right? Then yes! Especially if the Previous Lord fixes it in place with power.
> 
> Note: After this story is complete, I’m going back to good ol’ past tense narratives. I thought it would be fun and exciting to try something new while I was trying something new, but now I know better. This feels so unnatural.  
> Also, fun fact, this is now the longest ‘creative writing’ I’ve ever composed. _Suck it, middle school Language Arts class!_ Now to beat out the manual I wrote for a fictional library database last year...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein gets all hot and bothered.

The admission of guilt draws Frankenstein’s attention to Tao like Dark Spear to an enemy, which is unnervingly close to their actual situation. Crackling aura seeps into the space between them, temperature falling by several degrees as the barometric pressure within the room seems to dip. Corrosion colors the floor beneath his feet.

Abruptly, “Raizel” comes to his feet. “Perhaps you three should take a walk.” The suggestion carries the weight of command, and the modified humans waste no further time in scrambling from the room, Tao being yanked away bodily by his companions.

Frankenstein’s full attention falls on the Previous Lord. Disturbingly, the dark energy doesn’t retreat into its host. “What did you do,” he states more than asks.

“Is that any way to address the Lord and your Master?” the Previous Lord quips coolly.

“Tell me where you went and what you did,” he growls.

“Perhaps we can discuss your concerns over a cup of tea?” he teases, “Or would something stronger be more to your taste at the moment?” His head tilts, flaunting his earrings.

Cracks shoot across the surface of the glass coffee table and the screen of the television. Glass crackles and falls from the lights on the ceiling.

“You know, you’ve been avoiding me lately.” Raizel returns to his previous seat on the couch, curling his legs next to him on the cushions and bracing himself with one arm. He glances back at Frankenstein almost dismissively over his shoulder. Then Raizel’s face turns back to the tv, still flashing colorful images of gangland drama in a foreign tongue despite the broken screen. His shoulder dips down slightly, allowing the cool black silk to slip down his skin. It pools around his arm, exposing the ivory of his shoulder. And an artful splash of vibrant blue. “I take it you’ve been making progress on your experiments?”

***

M-21 and Takeo lean anxiously over Tao’s chair as they all stare intently at the computer screen, monitoring the situation while hardly daring to breathe.

“The fuck?” Tao demands, blinking furiously against what he’s just seen from the security cameras hidden in the lounge. “When did Boss’s Boss get _that_? It definitely didn’t happen while he was with us!”

A terrible grating _noise_ cuts through the house as the camera feed abruptly cuts to static. Terrible and anguished are the screams of the damned.

***

“You’re being so noisy! Don’t tell me that you’re trying to wake him?” Raizel’s gaze meets Franken’s out of the corner of his eye. Cool crimson meets violet-spiked blue.

820 years. Their surreal reunion and the short months they've had together since haven’t quite tipped the scales of reality enough for him to overcome the ridiculous tableau laid out before him. His acceptance breaks.

 _This… is not my Master. This is an imposter. He has **marked** my Master’s body_. Frankenstein erupts into motion, seal cracking, shadows and spikes and flashes of darkness wrapping around the figure of a man.

He is upon Raizel before normal human eyes could have registered the movement, hands clawed and arms coated in oily shifting blackness. He makes to take "Raizel" by the shirt but pauses a hair's breadth away, uncertain of what to grab. By all appearances, if he were to grab the robe it would slip right off, providing neither purchase for Frankenstein nor modesty for Raizel. His next instinct, having been thwarted at playing nice, is to go for the throat. But it would be risky, far too risky, to trust in the Previous Lord's sliver of a soul to keep him from tearing through delicate flesh and snapping vital bone. He draws back as though to throw a punch, but stops short as he envisions the spray of precious blood and the damage to delicate sculpted features.

"You gonna do something or am I going to have to make the first move?" Raizel's voice inquires coyly.

Frankenstein's fingers settle for closing around Raizel's arm just below the shoulder. If he were to think about the amount of pressure he's applying he would know that his grip is _painful_. He hesitates again, uncertain of his next move. But the weeks of being without his Master's soothing presence, weeks of frustration as he's hit wall after ethical wall with his work into restoring him, weeks of the Previous Lord's antics and taunting, and a near millennium of his own shame in his failures blossom and boil over at the behest of his Lover's tender ministrations to his psyche. He draws his Master's lithe form up and towards himself before slamming him to the ground in front of the couch, amidst shards of broken glass.

And with that, the spell is broken: frustrations released and his self-loathing realized. The hands and cables he finds wrapped around his body are as unnecessary as the gun pressed against his back.

“Boss, you’re gonna regret this. Please stop.”

“I’m done. I just needed to… _do_ something.” Frankenstein is hesitantly released by his employees. “Help him get cleaned up.” He turns away and sinks into a chair. Unable to look at what he’s done, he stares at a point on the wall near the floor.

“Shit, that’s a lot of glass!”

“Shut _up_ , M’!”

“Sorry… Here, let me get that.”

“So… Why a peacock? I’ve been meaning to ask about that, actually. Is it your symbol or something?”

At this, Frankenstein’s head whips around. Raizel is already facing him, standing on a clean spot on the floor. A small heap of blood-dipped crystalline splinters rests on the near edge of the coffee table. Self-satisfaction and mild condescension twist his lips and brow. His arms are outstretched like a divine apparition, the trio of onlookers admiring the patch of exposed skin on his back where the robe has slipped.

“Oh, _no_. This represents someone who my dear Raizel holds _very_ dear. I’m afraid that I never meant nearly as much to him, as he repeatedly and callously refused to live with me. He even refused the offer of my daughter’s companionship!”

Black, silver, and purple heads snap towards Frankenstein, who, in turn, scowls deeply.

“Oh, it’s Boss! I get it now! Makes perfect sense.”

“Tao, I’m going to dock your pay,” he snaps gruffly, eyes glinting dangerously.

“You wouldn’t! I’ve been all over God-knows-where every night since your boss decided to take a nap-”

“Tao-” Takeo interrupts, hoping to prevent his companion from digging a deeper grave, but is, himself, cut short.

“Ha! I _do_ know where, as a matter of-” the Previous Lord butts in, only to be cut off as well.

"Shut up, you pompous _ass_ -” Frankenstein’s annoyance begins to bubble up from within as the damage he’s already caused is apparently not sufficient to silence the Previous Lord.

“I feel a bit better about it, actually,” states M-21 loudly, interjecting tactfully. “I was upset when I thought it was the Lord’s symbol or something. I mean, it’s been fun and all but…”

“You forced M-21 to get a tattoo?” the urgency in Frankenstein’s voice cuts sharply through their conversation. “I’ll remove it, don’t worry.”

Raizel’s head tilts back in smug superiority. “I fixed them in place myself when I expedited their healing. It wouldn’t do for their loyalties to fade...”

Frankenstein steps forward, glass crunching harmlessly under his dress shoes. _I forgot to take them off once I got inside,_ he thinks absently. _How unlike me._ He takes M-21’s arm without any resistance and pulls up his right sleeve, exposing first his serial number and then the graceful image of a phoenix with crescent wings across his forearm, the Lord’s cross smaller but in the forefront. The same as the one he was shown earlier. “You have more than one?”

“Yeah, we all got the same set, one on each arm. Except for Sir Raizel! We got them so he wouldn’t. I swear, I don’t know when he got his! It wasn’t when he was with us, and we’ve been on him 24/7. We tried to call his bluff, but then he got that new earring...” M-21 pulls his arm away to roll up his other sleeve, exposing crisp, graceful lines and a vibrant array of blues, greens, and violet. Clasped in its claws is something white.

 _A goddamned teacup?_ The left half of Frankenstein's face twitches.

“Remove this. M-21’s already been marked against his will and I won’t tolerate a second violation.” Frankenstein’s voice is stern and insistent as he once again takes his arm, pulling him forward. “Please”

Raizel’s eyebrows rise and his eyes shift to meet M-21’s. “Um, actually…” M-21 begins, looking away as he gently reclaims his arm. “I kinda like that we all have the same tattoos. I was just miffed that I had to pay for them when I didn’t have any say in the design.”

Frankenstein stares at him in disbelief, even as Raizel’s eyes glint victorious. 

The soft voice of his Master fills the room, gentle yet expansive. “It was M-21's desire to be marked as a part of the group, to have his position as a comrade cemented in a way his doubts and internal demons can't refute.”

M-21's downright bashful expression confirms this.

“And the rest of you are also okay with this? I can fix it if you aren’t.” His eyes meet with Takeo’s and Tao’s.

Takeo nods. “The artwork is beautiful.”

“I was actually thinking that Regis and Seira should get one too, when they get back. At least, if that's something that Nobles do. And I was thinking about adding an RK number somewhere. I mean, if that’s okay with you?” Tao trails off questioningly, looking to M-21 for approval.

“We’ll see. Just don’t draw one of those ridiculous masks on me,” he teases, looking away to avoid showing too much emotion at his comrade’s concern.

Frankenstein turns again towards his Master, the Previous Lord grinning widely back at him. The sight of Raizel’s bared teeth in this context feels obscene.

“And the street thugs? Why are you running a gang?”

“Oh, there are several reasons. And it’s not just one gang, I inserted myself into a new position at the top of all of the local ones. Give me some credit, I _was_ the Lord, you know. Pretty cool, right?”

Frankenstein raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms, frowning.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to get answers from me. How about you take us all out for drinks and I’ll forgive you for throwing me onto a pile of glass. That was a first for me, you know.”

“That’s not something I need your forgiveness for.” His eyes slip down to rest on his shoes, mentally polishing them as he tallies all that he needs to do to restore the room to order, furiously refusing to dwell on his actions in such intrusive company.

“Alright then, Tao’s treat, since he was the first to admit guilt and so sparked this misadventure!”

Tao’s eyes flit back and forth between amused crimson and hard blue, mouth opening to protest the injustice but unable to find the words to refute as a change in venue might lighten the mood.

***

They pull up to one of their usual haunts in Frankenstein’s sleek black Mercedes. The car itself is nice without drawing unwanted attention, with classic lines and modern conveniences and a touch more tech than is strictly necessary. The interior is spotless and smells faintly of polish and rose oil. It has clearly never harbored a bag of greasy fast food, and if anyone has ever had a drink in the cab, it had been Raizel and it had been tea and it had been the exception, not the rule.

As he pulls into a well-lit corner of the parking lot (he really can't afford to catch someone messing with his car with his current state of emotional turbulence), he is caught between amusement and disapproval as all four of his passengers pull out concealed bottles from various hiding places around the car.

"Why did you hide those?" he asks, disapproval carefully stripped from his tone. With all of the things he's done in his long, long life, he certainly has no right to judge this sort of indulgence, but he suspects that this activity has occurred frequently while his employees were on the clock. And they had _better_ not spill.

"So you wouldn't stop us, of course! Here, we brought one for you, too." Tao passes forward a handle of vodka. The rest are armed with fifths. "We thought that you might need a bigger head start, since your body's more heavily modified than ours."

Frankenstein waits curiously with the others as his Master hands Takeo his bottle. He pours a single shot into a glass and hands it over to the Previous Lord. "Our dear Raizel is an incurable lightweight," offers the Lord as he accepts the offering.

"Cheers!" Glass clinks a bit strangely against glass, as full and mostly-full bottles meet with the shot glass.

"Cheers," adds Frankenstein belatedly, adding his bottle to the fray.

Then he lifts the bottle and downs its contents, not pausing for breath until the acetic liquid ceases to flow.

When he finally glances back at his companions, M-21 is looking surly in the back seat. Tao appears thoroughly impressed with his Boss, and Takeo is leaning back into the headrest, countenance serene. Raizel meets his gaze and tips back his shot, gulping it down. He sits back a little further in his seat and closes his eyes, a rosy flush creeping across face. _Adorable._ He makes a mental note to introduce his Master to alcohol upon his return. Apparently it isn't harmful to him, as this ritual has a practiced air to it.

Inside, the bar is warm and welcoming. Conversation buzzes pleasantly around them as they make their way to their usual seats. M-21 is intercepted halfway by a burly stranger and stays behind to catch up. Takeo slides up to the bar to flirt familiarly with the bartender. Tao shoots him a jealous look before busying himself with the tattooed hooligan in the next seat over. Raizel is immediately flocked by several strangers, causing Frankenstein to bristle reflexively.

"Your booze, Sir." Takeo clinks a hefty glass of amber liquid onto the counter before him, drawing his attention.

"Scotch?" he asks curiously, catching the scent. The glass is the tall sort, usually reserved for water.

"Yep! Gotta drink lots and fast if you want to keep tipsy." Tao slips a modest glass of red wine in front of Raizel. "Except for you. You sip." Tao's scowl is deep and speaks heavily of past experience.

Raizel's mouth quirks up briefly as he continues his conversation.

Empty glasses gather on the wooden counter of the bar as time slips away, the bartender apparently used to their inhuman drinking habits. At some point M-21 had rejoined their group, dragging along a new companion and discussing, seriously and secretively, how to go about letting poor, underage Yuna down without hurting her feelings. Frankenstein watches his Master covertly as he delicately sips at his wine, sanguine liquid unsubtly reminiscent of blood. He shuffles in his seat, attempting to make his arousal less obvious.

The Previous Lord's conversations vary wildly from purely social, to matters of the infrastructure and day-to-day endeavors of his newly acquired street gangs. From what Frankenstein can gather in between drinks, his groups are primarily engaged in extortion and protection schemes, and have all but ended the local sex trade. It didn't sound to be as bad as it could have been, though Frankenstein wondered at the Lord's definition of 'free will' that he found extortion acceptable and slavery not.

The Previous Lord leans away from one of his gang leaders to whisper in Frankenstein’s ear, "The difference lies in the victim's ability to make a choice. Choosing to accept a consequence is not a breach of will, while being subjected to violation regardless of will, is."

Frankenstein sits up straight on the barstool, shivering at the wine-scented breath on his neck. _I thought I told you to cut that out!_ he thinks in frustration. _My Master was never so rude. And there's still a victim!_

"And who is that, I wonder." Raizel casts him a calculating glance before turning back to his… _Employees? Underlings? Lackeys? Peons? Serfs? Subjects? What exactly is the word for this?_ he wonders a bit absently.

***

Hours later and miles away, the trio drags their folding patio set across the floor of the most commonly used and most-benign lab, sub-basement 1, along with a couple of extra chairs pilfered from the kitchen.

"Alright! Who wants 'Regret' and who wants to try 'Shame'?" Frankenstein calls out from the open doors of the elevator, a couple of large glass bottles balanced in each arm.

"... I genuinely don't know how to answer that. What do they taste like?" Tao's brow is furrowed with concern.

"Peaches and acetone, respectively."

"In that case, I think I'll take some of the peach stuff."

"Have you ever tried mixing them?" Takeo still sounds a bit buzzed from their earlier antics at the bar.

Frankenstein quirks an eyebrow at this. "You know, I haven't," he trails off thoughtfully.

The Previous Lord watches the exchange in curious silence, wondering if Frankenstein’s impending attack on his sobriety will prove successful.

Drinks are poured in volumetric flasks and set before each of them, one of each flavor, and one 50/50 mix of the two. When Tao had expressed a desire to skip the ones that were unlikely to be pleasant, Frankenstein declared it a part of their punishment for failing in their job of keeping the Noblesse contained within the house.

With that irrefutable condemnation, Tao, Takeo, and M-21 raise their glasses of Shame, figuring it to be the preferred order of things, bitter bringing out the sweet. Frankenstein and Raizel follow suit.

“To bitter, bitter failure.” Frankenstein’s eyes have taken on a soulless quality, glazed over and far away. The others don’t have to guess at where in space and time they’re looking, and silently clink their flasks against his. Raizel’s face is solemn, for once. Together, they tip back their drinks and swallow as much as they are able.

Which, for most of them, isn’t much. The three modified humans gasp and sputter at the literal poison they’ve voluntarily quaffed. The Previous Lord stops short of swallowing, his mouth full of the foul substance but unable to spit it out for Raizel’s dignity. Frankenstein drains his glass in one go, growling as he replaces the flask on the patio table. A many-layered giggle escapes him and his face flushes with embarrassment. “Apologies, Dark Spear enjoys this.” Then, “You don’t need to finish that.” He nods at their unfinished glasses. The trio is unabashedly relieved to hear this. The punishment far exceeded the crime.

An audible gulp from Raizel’s direction - the Previous Lord has finally found it within himself to swallow. The heavy blush that follows is red as the wine he’d been sipping a scant hour prior.

“Ah…” Frankenstein trails off, embarrassed and stifling a smile for all he’s worth. “Here, I’ll just take these.” He gathers the unsavory swill and deposits the glasses in the sterile lab sink for later. “Try the sweet one, it’ll masque the flavor.” Absently, he wonders at the connection between Noble soul and body that a substance like alcohol could cause such a disruption to normal functionality.

And he applauds himself internally at the successful implementation of his plan.

“Oh thank God, it’s sweet!” Tao cries out in relief, a touch louder than normal, gulping down the gently golden liquor as though it is life itself.

Frankenstein returns to the table to observe with satisfaction how his charges are laying into the delicate spirit of his own concoction. Their indulgence is extravagant, even from what he’s observed of their drinking habits at the bar. He fumbles with his chair, betraying his state to the others.

He sips absently at his mixed drink as he waits for the otherts o satiate themselves. _I can’t tell if this drink is pleasant, or if it is only so by comparison._ He doesn’t dare look at Raizel, counting on his physical need to put out the fire and his Master’s taste for sweetness to make the situation work to his benefit.

After a few minutes have passed, he risks a glance towards the Previous Lord. He notes with pleasure the exact amount that he’s consumed, recorded as it is by the markings on the flask.

“So!” Frankenstein starts a little loudly, slapping both hands down on the table, “What the fuck good is a legion of common human degenerates going to be to my Master?” His voice is languid and stumbling, but the others are too drunk to notice. His eyes wander a bit before fixing on Raizel’s.

“Haven’t you always wanted to share your modifications with other humans?” the Lord answers slowly and blearily, looking a little dazed as he pushes his empty glass towards the center of the table. “I can’t drink any more or I’ll fall asleep.”

This brings Frankenstein up short. The short, honest answer to this question is ‘yes’.

“Or I could do contracts or something. _You_ could do contracts. You’ve got a solid handful of generations between you and a mutant, as long as you kept your people in line it wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Raizel will be inclined to honor their decisions and their dignity and allow them to defend his life. Pride of a Boss, and all that.” Raizel’s elegant hand gestures vaguely at nothing. “My turn! Why do you insist on isolating Sir Raizel from yourself? Don’t you think he’s had enough of that from everyone else?” His look is accusatory as he slips out of his Lukedonian jacket, apparently feeling warm.

“That’s not how this works,” Frankenstein slurs, poking a finger solidly into Raizel’s chest. He pulls back his hand, staring at his finger as though it’s betrayed him.

“See?! What’s the big deal about you two touching? You practically share a soul when you let your guard down, I’ve seen it! You haven’t stopped throwing yourself at him since he first went to sleep!”

M-21 is staring into his flask curiously, flanked by Takeo and Tao who are busy looking away and at nothing. It’s impossible to tell if their flush is from the apparent intrusion on personal matters or from the liquor. Or both, for they are all quite pink.

“Your decorum is _not_ to your benefit, nor to his.” He practically yells the last part of his statement.

“I… Will not discuss this with you.”

“Fine! I’ll just discuss it with everyone _else_ , then. Perhaps we can come up with some _theories_ ,” the Lord trails off spitefully and a bit mischievously, even if his words are jumbled together. He unbuttons his collar and down the front of his shirt and then fiddles with his sleeves, attempting to roll them.

The conversation degrades from there. Frankenstein's attention is further diverted by his attempts at preserving an appropriate state of dress for Raizel in direct conflict with the Previous Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Binge drinking isn't cool. Please don't consume that much liquor, you'll die. [ ± _ ± ]
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any mistakes or make comments! I _love_ comments. I’m so jazzed that you’re still reading this. <3
> 
> Edit: The next chapter is going to take me a bit longer to get out. I have the flu and some school stuff I've been neglecting. But seeing as my term papers are due in 2 days and the flu can only last for so long... I'll have new stuff up before too long. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exit stage left.

Unconsciousness grips him and Frankenstein is hardly aware of the change in his state. He hasn't slept in so long that avoiding it now would require a force of will that he doesn't care to muster.

His reality dissolves into a dream.

_He stands behind his Master at his open window, curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. He has something that he needs to say, something that feels urgent. He takes a step forward, hand outstretched, mouth open to speak words he doesn't yet know, but stops short as something crunches beneath his shoe. He looks down. The floor is covered in shards of glass. Looking back up, Raizel is now facing him._

_"Please stay where you are, Master. I'll get this cleaned right away."_

_He kneels down to pick up the shards, placing an endless number of pieces in a pile in his cupped hand. He glances back up at the window and freezes. His Master is gone. Looking around the room, the shards are now tinged with blood. On his second turn inspecting the room, the Previous Lord is seated on Raizel's small couch. He is facing away from him, sitting straight and still as though waiting. He looks away, turning again around the room. When he next lays eyes on the Previous Lord, he is naked, still in the same spot on the couch. Anger boils up inside of him, spilling over in a stream of expletives._

_"God-fucking damn it, what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"_

_Abruptly, he is gone. Not a trace remains to indicate that he had ever been there at all._

_He approaches the window, laying his hands upon the sill and looking out at the blue Lukedonian sky. Nothing seems amiss. Birds fly and clouds drift. The day is pleasant. A glimmer of light catches the corner of his eye and he turns to investigate. The window isn't open, it's been shattered. Broken shards of glass line its frame, a splash of red on the sill._

_On the ground below, Raizel lies broken, a halo of broken glass surrounding him. His eyes are wide and empty. Blood pools around the lovely corpse._

_He is standing over Raizel in the living room, his Master's body lying still on the floor at the foot of his modern leather couch, flat red eyes meeting his own. The shards of glass glint violet. Accusations rise from his Master's lips, voices echoing from a thousand thousand directions at once._

A small flash of crimson warmth flares up from deep within his soul. Abruptly, Frankenstein’s eyes blink open. He can feel his Master’s presence through their bond.

And he feels distraught.

Frankenstein rolls over to find Raizel laying next to him in Frankenstein’s own bed, eyes fluttering open as his hand goes to his forehead. The other goes to clutch at his chest. "I… am wearing your shirt," he states simply. "And I feel…" he trails off, struggling to find the words to describe his first pounding hangover.

Abruptly, he doubles over and retches.

Frankenstein fights his own disorientation and lingering drunkenness to strip the soiled bed sheets from his Master, carrying his quiet, trembling form to the private shower adjoining his room. He sets the water to a pleasant temperature, strips Raizel's clothes, and helps him sit up under the water.

Then he stumbles to the kitchen, returning with water and orange juice and peppermint tea, cursing himself and cursing the Previous Lord for their antics the night before. _Or is it still the same night?_

He finds himself roughly pulled from the comfort of his own internal chatter by the sight of Raizel curled up on the floor of the shower, apparently on the verge of falling asleep again. Rushing to check their connection, he finds that it has grown blurry and faint. _Shit_. How long had it taken him to return from the kitchen?

He pours as much energy and urgency as he can through the bond to Raizel. "Hey, hey, hey, stay with me. Master, wake up. I need you to stay with me. Here." He taps his shoulder repeatedly and sits him back upright.

Raizel groans softly, unfocused eyes shifting uncertainly to gaze over at him.

A Noble's body is only a mimic of a human's, yet Frankenstein knows from experience that there are substances that can affect Nobles. He can taste the bitter regret on his tongue, stomach icy with fear. He has fed his own personal concoctions, designed to reduce himself to drunkenness despite his myriad modifications, some Noble-inspired, to that which is most precious to him. Untested.

He tips a glass of cool water to his Master's pale lips, but Raizel, trembling, throws it all up almost immediately. He turns off the shower and towels him off, grabbing his own towel in his haste. Grimacing at his carelessness, he pauses. Raizel’s eyes glint and Frankenstein realizes almost too late his Master’s intention. He grabs at his hand and barks for him to stop. “Master, please refrain from using any power.”

Raizel stares blankly back at him, mute.

He takes the opportunity to hastily grab some sleep clothes from a drawer, tugging them gently over his Master’s shivering form. Fankenstein’s brow crinkles in distress as Raizel's frame is smaller and slighter than his own and he appears even more vulnerable in clothing that is too large for him.

He attempts to let Raizel lean on him for support as he guides them to the lab, but Raizel isn't managing well and Frankenstein isn't steady enough, himself. He pauses to gather his Master into his arms and makes his way to the elevator, falling to his knees as it begins its descent, sheltering Raizel even as he knocks painfully into a wall.

The door dings open at the first lab, the trio still inside. They're all huddled around the patio table staring at someone's phone. Belatedly, they turn to look in their direction, good times still going. He presses the button for the third subfloor and the doors close again.

_Same night, then._

All the while during their descent, he urges Raizel to stay awake, repeating a slurry of requests and promises. “Please, allow me to fix this. Master, please refrain from using your power. I can take care of it.” With the link to their bond restored, Frankenstein practically nuzzles Raizel's warm soul, wrapping around him unthinkingly tight, keeping him close. _”You shouldn't be using your power for anything, let alone this.”_

Raizel, so overwhelmed by the spiritual and physical cuddling and the physical and mental disorientation, relaxes into Frankenstein, his trust in him implicit.

His servant sets him gently in a chair, carefully keeping him upright in case he is sick again, then sets him up with an iv. He contemplates giving him oxygen as well, and a dozen other potential remedies for what he hopes to be a simple case of alcohol poisoning. Not for the first time, he regrets not having baseline vitals and blood composition on file for his Master. His fingers flit over the various instruments at his disposal as he runs through possibilities in his head. He resolves to finally ask his permission to collect them once his Master is well.

"Frankenstein," Raizel says softly, drawing him from his thoughts. "You are sending your thoughts to me directly. Is this your intent?" His Master’s eyes are clearer and more alert, his trembling reduced to a shiver.

“Apologies, Master.” An embarrassed flush crosses his face as he hurriedly returns to Raizel’s side to examine him more closely, habitually assuming the mannerisms of a doctor.

“There is no need.” His brow furrows slightly in worry. With their bond so open, Raizel is immersed in Frankenstein’s emotions. There is a deep distress in his Bonded that he can’t sort out. Frankenstein, still being a touch out of sorts from the alcohol, is sending him a confusing blur of disjointed images. “Are you having nightmares again?” That would be the most obvious explanation for what he is being shown.

Frankenstein flinches at the feedback he receives through the bond, quickly withdrawing himself, leaving Raizel alone. He shivers at the internal cold, a tinge of sadness creeping into his eyes.

Frankenstein picks up on the change immediately, finely tuned to his Master’s subtle cues. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to subject you to that.” His thoughts return unbidden to broken glass. He turns and busies himself, bustling around his lab. After a short while, he gives himself an injection to ease his own symptoms. He prepares similar mixtures for Tao, Takeo, and M-21 from their existing data and what he remembers of their indulgence. Then he returns to kneel before Raizel.

“Master, I have caused you harm. Your servant is not worthy to show himself before you. Please understand, it was not my intent.”

Raizel, still fighting mild disorientation and having no recollection of being harmed, tilts his head ever so slightly as he blinks in confusion, silent and otherwise still.

Seeing it necessary to continue despite how badly he wants to flee from it and never look back, Frankenstein forces the words from himself. "Master, I harmed you bodily. I… threw you down and cut you with glass." He swallows past the lump in his throat, eyesight blurring and face hot. The weight of guilt and misery in his chest is too great and the admission frees him to await recompense.

He waits, thoughts and emotions silently shielded, knees growing stiff and head steadily sinking lower toward the sterile white lab tile. His bearing is as one waiting for the ax to fall.

Raizel stares down at him, taking extra time to process what his Bonded has said as his own perceptions still seem impaired. He pours over the images he'd gleaned from his mind earlier, handling them carefully in conjunction with his Bonded's confession. After at least a dozen minutes have passed, he sends his displeasure and annoyance to Frankenstein, who's shoulders immediately sink lower in shame. Raizel’s eyes widen at the response and he forces through an intense feeling of apology.

"Frankenstein, I am sorry. The Lord's behavior has upset you beyond what you could bear, and I have allowed him to do so. My displeasure is not with you. That was not me. I am not harmed."

 _Like hell_ , Frankenstein thinks, shuddering at the recent memory of his Master struggling with the poison that he himself had foisted upon him. A rush of anger rises in his veins, directed inward. Dark Spear eagerly adds their sentiment to his, but Raizel extinguishes their voices with a soft scowl. He reaches out to lay a hand on Frankenstein’s hair, flooding their bond with apologies and affection.

Raizel sends forth soothing calm. "I am sad at the distance between us. I missed the feeling of your company while I slept," he volunteers, seeking to mend the hurt he'd caused to his Bonded earlier. "Please rise."

Frankenstein’s face colors and he averts his eyes. He gets off of his aching knees, quietly resuming observation of his patient.

Abruptly, Raizel's eyes flash wide, before narrowing slightly as his cheeks color in embarrassment. "What is it?" Frankenstein asks, anxiety coloring his tone.

Raizel's eyes shift to the floor. His words come slowly, tentatively. "The Previous Lord sought to grant you what you desired but had been unable to achieve. What is your relationship with the Previous Lord?"

Frankenstein finds himself totally lost by the question. He stands there, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted in confusion.

Raizel's painfully slow follow-up shocks him to his very core. "We… You were in bed together. I… He was wearing your shirt, and your chest is bare. The situation implies sex."

Frankenstein balks, suddenly realizing that he has neglected to notice his own state of undress. He hastily materializes a shirt for himself.

"No, Master," he begins quickly, eager to resolve the misunderstanding, "I had passed out. I do not know why you were in my bed. The Previous Lord had attempted to disrobe while drunk and I eventually resorted to covering you with my shirt to preserve your modesty. I would Never presume to violate or sully my," _pure and precious_ , "Master like that. Please understand, my relationship with the Lord is nothing close to amicable."

Relief floods Raizel's expression at first, then gives way to a touch of sorrow and frustration. Frankenstein is confused, and waits patiently for his Master to voice his thoughts.

Abruptly, it hits him that his innocent Master has implied a knowledge of sex.

"Frankenstein, I _know_ about sex."

Frankenstein abruptly straightens and blinks, as though he’s just been slapped across the face.

"You are sending me your thoughts again, " Raizel offers by way of explanation for the apparent non sequitur.

"…"

"Shinwoo showed me."

"Shinwoo… showed you..," he repeats what he’s heard flatly, without belief.

"Yes," he says with pride and self-assurance, secure in his knowledge, straightening a bit in his chair. "He said that it is something special to do with the right person."

"Oh." Frankenstein’s relief is palpable, his mood threatening to shift to one of hysterical laughter.

"Or people, because he said that it was relevant to someone in my 'situation'. And he has shown me 'porn' so that I would understand. He said that he couldn't rely on me to 'learn by doing' because of how I am with video games." A touch of shame flashes through the bond, as this is a sore spot for him.

"…"

"Ikihan was also in attendance of the porn, though his perception of sex varied from Shinwoo's."

Frankenstein doesn't know what to do with his emotions, so he busies himself with removing the iv and applying a bandage out of habit, although it is unlikely to be necessary, looking everywhere but at his Master. He decides to ignore his feelings and focus on something else.

" So, you were… Upset when you thought I had… Intercourse with the Previous Lord?" _With you?_ He follows privately.

It's Raizel's turn to be embarrassed. He is quiet as he collects himself, carefully deciding on what to say. "You are very… Special to me, my Bonded," he replies a bit cryptically. "I do not trust the Previous Lord's actions in all things, though I know his intent isn't malicious." His face darkens. "Of course, you are free to do as you wish. I would not stop you or intrude, provided you are not endangering yourself." he offers reassuringly, eyes sad but lips smiling slightly for his Bonded's benefit.

Frankenstein absorbs this, unsure of what to think. The last thing he wants to do is make incorrect assumptions on such a delicate subject. He circles back to all that has been said. "What did you mean when you said 'what I desired but had been unable to achieve'?"

Raizel looks away, brow slightly furrowed. "That's what the Lord had said. He said that you needed his assistance in something and he would have given it long ago had I not disappeared. In his wisdom he urged me not to tell you his plan or inquire further, as all would be made clear upon my awakening. But I do not understand. If you have not attained what you wanted, then why am I awake? Unless…”

_Does my Master think that I desire to let out frustration with him or to intoxicate him? Or, God forbid, that I…_

"No!" the word bursts from Frankenstein's lips before he can do more than think it. "Master, I have never desired to harm you, and I will have to somehow learn to live with the fact that I have or I'm afraid your servant won't be able to show himself before you any longer. And I did not intend to poison you, my Lord. I was attempting to gain information... I apologize for my actions and will gladly accept any punishment that you see fit to bestow upon me." He is back on his knees, his forehead pressed against the floor at Raizel's bare feet. _How did I forget to cover his feet, he must be freezing!_ He withdraws into himself, once again falling back on formality and station as a shield. He raises a wall between them. “I insist upon it.”

"Frankenstein, rise." Raizel's displeasure is palpable. "Perhaps I should order you to refrain from apologizing as your punishment. You owe me nothing. Since this is the result of my own choices, perhaps I should be the one begging your forgiveness." Frankenstein jolts at his words, swallowing his formalities and stiffly coming to his feet.

Just then, the elevator doors ding open and the trio stumbles out.

"Oh, hey! We've been looking for you. You two disappeared for a bit and we got worried, especially when we saw you in the elevator. Did you get Lord Raizel sick?" Tao asks, combining the names of the two entities. "I mean, that was kind of a dirty trick you pulled, Boss, but it also wasn't cool of _you_ to give Raizel a tattoo just to piss him off, so…"

Raizel stares at Tao curiously. Through the link, Frankenstein catches a flare of fondness towards the modified human and sends back his own amusement and mischief at this uncommon opportunity, grateful for the diversion. _"Do you desire to play a trick on them, my Lord?"_

Raizel consents. His companions at school frequently play tricks, and he is eager to participate, especially when it seems to be distracting Frankenstein from groveling at his feet. _"What should I do?"_

 _"Don't reveal that it is you. I will tell you what to say. Let us see how long it takes for them to notice."_ Wicked amusement warms him at his Master's indulgence in the game. He still owes those three for their role in recent events, after all. 

"It was nothing, the Previous Lord just doesn't handle his liquor so well. Speaking of which, these are for you. Come sit over here and I'll give them to you. They're tailored to each of you so you should have less of a hangover. Unfortunately it'll also kill your buzz, but just ask 'Lord Raizel' over here about the severity of his hangover."

_"You can be honest."_

Raizel frowns at the memory. "I had never been sick before," he states simply, shuddering.

"Ha! Well, it feels kinda good to finally beat you at something. I know Boss's Boss is a lightweight and all, but to know you got sick kinda makes me feel better about things. I mean, when did you even get that tattoo? That really wasn't fair of you." Tao's tongue is still loose from liquor as he accepts his injection. 

Raizel frowns for a moment before Frankenstein sends him the mental image of what he saw during his confrontation with the Previous Lord, carefully avoiding anything untoward that he may have glimpsed while his Master was curled up in the shower.

His eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise, but then he parrots the lines that Frankenstein provides, "Oh, that? Raizel's always had it. That's why he's always so prim about being clothed."

"Wait, seriously? Boss's Boss did something like _that_? We've been beating ourselves up about it all night! I thought you must have given us the slip or something but we couldn't figure out when. We were just reviewing security footage on my phone, trying to figure it out!"

"Hey, I've got a question for you," offers M-21 a little loudly. "So, are _you_ into Frankenstein or are you trying to get him to make a move on Sir Raizel, 'cause I was just watching the footage again from the living room earlier, and that was some pretty blatant stuff, right there."

 _Tactless!_ Frankenstein thinks as his face colors, the Previous Lord's indecorous actions slipping unbidden into his mind.

A flush creeps over Raizel's face as his eyes widen in surprise. He turns to his Bonded who's staring straight through the screen of his computer to the electrical components behind it, apparently teasing them carefully apart and analyzing them with great care.

Takeo, already feeling the effects of the shot and a bit more perceptive than the others, taps them both on the shoulder and purses his lips in a terse line. He's staring at Raizel. When his companions turn to look at him, he slowly shakes his head. "I believe that's Sir Raizel, and not the Previous Lord."

"Oh. Shit. I am _so sorry_. I just got used to saying whatever I wanted around that guy and I _never_ … I can't apologize enough, I am _so sorry_." M-21 dips his head in humiliation and apology.

 _"Frankenstein. Is this what the Lord meant?"_ Raizel asks him silently, intent only on his Bonded.

Frankenstein is silent as his eyes go a bit empty. Carefully, blankly, he supplies that he cares for his Master unconditionally with all that he has.

_"That is not an answer."_

_"Yes."_

_"You wish to be as lovers?"_

He flinches. Visibly.

_"I would like to know, Frankenstein. Please do not withhold this from me."_

_"Yes, Master. But it is not something that I wish to force upon you or bring to your mind by suggestion."_

_"So you would not present me with the option? Frankenstein, there is nothing I would not do for you."_

_"I know. And that is what concerns me. You don't do things for yourself."_

_"I do not want a distance between us. I enjoy your being close. I bonded with you because I desired it."_ His tone is colored with longing and affection and a small amount of amusement, as he seeks to draw his Bonded out from his defenses and denial.

It is perhaps because of the wonderful presence of his Master in his soul after the dreadful blackness of his absence, that he does not resist. Frankenstein looks up to meet Raizel's gaze. His tension and anxiety melt into a tentative blossom of hope.

Then Tao drops his cell phone. Scooping it up off the floor, the three hurriedly make their excuses and flee the lab, attempting to escape the awkward situation. They can tell from the long silence, intense stares, and shifting expressions what's being communicated telepathically before them. And they've had enough of these two for the day.

Frankenstein chooses to ignore them, the shifting emotions in himself and the revelation that is his Master being of far higher priority. He looks, instead, to Raizel.

 _My Master is so precious._ He practically flushes with joy at his soft expressions. With a rush of affection he floods their bond once again, relieved and overjoyed that Raizel has returned to him, and just as excited that his Master shares feelings for him. Although… "Is the Previous Lord gone now, or just sleeping? Do you know?" he voices suspiciously.

"I do not think that he has gone. It's more like he has fallen asleep."

Frankenstein pauses for a long moment before the answer abruptly comes to him. He claps his hand to his head. "He passed out from the alcohol." he states incredulously. "But enough of him. Master, would you care to come with me?" he asks coyly.

***

Frankenstein moves about his room in a flurry, replacing linens, changing covers, and opening the window to let in fresh air. Necessary things in the wake of Raizel's sickness. His Master is seated serenely in the corner, sipping a fresh cup of peppermint tea and enjoying a plate of cookies. All the while, Frankenstein hasn't ceased contact with him. With all the warm pleasure he's receiving in response, he considers that he might never stop. This adorable new side to his Master is just too much. He tries not to dwell on the time now past that they could have spent in just this manner, all of the joy he could have brought to Raizel but didn't because he was so intent on the position he had appointed to himself. How, so entangled, he might never have lost him in the first place... He bites back the sour thought at the rush of soothing comfort washing over him through their bond. Frankenstein doesn't even know what he would do if his bond was ever completely cut off again as it had been -

Unbidden, he recalls his first misadventure with the Previous Lord, how he had found him attempting to create children for Raizel. He pauses in what he's doing, suddenly wondering if Noble sex is truly _That_ different from human sex.

"We are both males, Frankenstein." Raizel states in amusement.

"Huh?" he says reflexively, looking at him incredulously.

"We cannot make children together that way."

Frankenstein is embarrassed for even thinking about it, settling on _that guy_ being a perverse lunatic, matching the impression he gives off.

"For us to make a child we would have to use our souls," Raizel adds shyly, staring at a point off to the side while his face colors. "That was likely the Lord's intent. He would have used a small piece of my soul and energy from a partner's soul." Frankenstein gives him a look of horror. "Most creatures replenish energy over time, so it wouldn't have harmed the human. You can't make a child with a partner unless they are willing." He offers reassuringly. The silence between them grows long and uncomfortable, with the Bonded man now shielding himself from his Master with all of his might, afraid of hurting his feelings with his wrath at the Lord. "Most Nobles prefer to make a child only of themselves as their qualities can be more assured, but I am not capable in my current state." His gaze drops sadly. "It would be a breach of my duty as Noblesse to voluntarily create a situation where I could not carry out -"

"Master, I'm not upset or disappointed in you!" Frankenstein cuts in impatiently, unwilling to listen to his Master carry on in this way, allowing a fraction of his emotions to reach Raizel through the bond. "I'm going to murder that lying bastard if he ever shows himself around you again! That he would spend your life…" he drops off, trembling in fury.

Raizel reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder, flooding him with calm reassurance. Frankenstein resists being calmed for a moment before realizing it and instead falling headlong into the comfort of his Master's soul, using the opportunity to examine him thoroughly in an attempt to determine if the Previous Lord had managed to cause any harm. He regrets being so formal with his Master previously that he has not already poured himself over Raizel to understand every fracture and map every missing piece.

He looks up into his serene gaze, noticing how Raizel is clearly enjoying the attention. "Master, perhaps for tonight we might sleep together," he volunteers as he senses the quirk of a question, "Not sex, just… Sleep next to you. I know that you just awoke, but I would like to lie next to you. I haven't been able to rest properly since you've been gone, and I'm not as… Composed as I would like." _And I really can't handle worrying about you any more tonight._

He can feel Raizel's consent and joy and concern for his Bonded directly, from his contact with his Master's warm soul, in addition to his dismissal of Frankenstein's worry. ( _"I am fine."_ ) Without falling back on words to communicate, he strips himself down to his underwear, a little self-conscious despite his confidence in his own looks. Then, he takes a small liberty for himself and lifts Raizel and lovingly nestles him into the bed, burying him gently in fresh sheets and thick blankets, still concerned for him after the alcohol poisoning. Slowly, cautiously, Frankenstein cuddles in next to him. He reaches out to drape a tentative arm over his Master, forcing the tension to recede from his own frame at the previously taboo contact. Feeling how definitively slight Raizel’s form is against his own, he reflexively tightens his embrace. Raizel reacts a bit stiffly to his touch at first, but soon relaxes into it like he relaxes into the comfort of their bond.

Being so close to his Master is an elation, every bit of contact something to be savored and enjoyed. Blissfully, he melts into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: It's cold outside, so here's something warm. <3 
> 
> Apologies if this feels a little rough, I think I’m still a touch off of normal. And wow, I wrote So Much Useless Crap while I was sick. This was actually the third entirely different plot for this chapter. It was an absolute editing nightmare.
> 
> I can't *promise* the contents of the next chapter because I haven't written it yet, but I'm angling for some of the smut that I promised when I included that "fluff and smut" tag. To say that I've never done that before would be redundant - I've never done any of this before - so I'll spare you the self-conscious babbling. Just know that despite my intentions to make this a short little oddity of a narrative, I have way too many plot pieces floating around unresolved (at least in my opinion). I still have a ways to go before tying it up properly. Thank you all for reading this far! I hope that you continue to enjoy the story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (At this point, it is important to note that the Previous Lord is not a voyeur.)

Frankenstein’s senses return to him slowly. His spirit cradled comfortably within Raizel's, his body curled around his Master's as though it had been a missing piece of himself. Upon finally pulling his way out of the black depths of deep, dreamless sleep, he jolts at the unfamiliar situation. He rushes Raizel with his soul, gripping him tighter as though he might suddenly vanish while he verifies his identity, their location, and their safety.

Raizel startles a bit at the abrupt onslaught, uncertain of what he should do. Hesitantly, and after a long moment has passed, he expresses through their bond that he is having a difficult time breathing, though admittedly this is not a pressing concern for him. 

His Bonded immediately releases his grip.

Frankenstein stares at him in wide wonder, now that his Master is far enough away that he can properly look at him. His crimson eyes hold a deep contentment, his soul speaks of his elation at watching over his Bonded as he slept, at the sheer joy that their contact elicits. His guardian. He reaches up to brush a stray strand of silken hair aside, an excuse to touch his Master's face as its placement hadn't actually been bothering him.

Amusement washes over him as, after a moment, Raizel reaches out and does the same, tucking a golden lock behind his ear. Frankenstein smiles as he reads the soul laid bare before him. This is his Master. Earnest, sweetly selfless, and so eager to please. Beautiful and innocent in his intent.

Acting purely on impulse, he leans forward to claim Raizel’s lips. Warm and soft he lingers, kissing him chastely, caught between the desire to savor the slow progress of each new act and the need to have all of his Master right now, to give all of himself immediately and with all the urgency and force of his need.

Abruptly, he finds himself pushed back, both of Raizel’s hands on his shoulders. Frankenstein’s body stiffens in shock, eyes flashing wide, horrified that he may have gone too far too quickly. Raizel smoothly completes the motion, rolling him onto his back, straddling him. He leans in and kisses him firmly (though chastely) on the mouth, holding him down for a long moment before drawing back and looking down at him curiously.

Concern and uncertainty flow through to Frankenstein from his Master, surprise, confusion, and arousal bouncing back. He can’t seem to summon the words to ask his Master about his actions, his head a confused jumble and his tumultuous emotions settling firmly into a heated desire to be _taken_.

“Shinwoo expressed that this was important,” Raizel states aloud, suddenly self-conscious. He sends his Bonded a series of moving images, a clip from a film: a busty platinum blonde pushes down a man, kissing him forcefully while grinding luxuriously atop his lap.

In the long silence that follows, Frankenstein forcibly, with an iron will, expunges any and all mental commentary, judgments, and speculation on Shinwoo and his bedroom preferences. _That,_ he tells himself with conviction, _is absolutely not something that will intrude on this particular moment in time._

“Master,” he purrs instead, pulling him back down into another kiss. This time he greedily slips his tongue past yielding lips, exploring him hungrily. When they finally break away for breath, Frankenstein is elated to find that Raizel’s face is flushed scarlet. “Master, please don’t talk about anyone else when we are in bed together,” he ventures coyly. “Have you forgotten that I run a school? I happen to be an _excellent_ teacher.”

With that, he tilts Raizel off of himself, deftly reversing their roles. With one hand he pins his Master’s delicate wrists above his head. The other slips under his shirt to explore his exquisite form, alternating between smooth, gentle caresses and roughly running his nails across alabaster skin. All the while, he works at Raizel’s throat with lips and teeth and tongue.

Slowly, he makes his way down, leaving a trail of pink and purple blossoms that fade almost as soon as they form. A wide, predatory grin flashes across his face as his Master groans faintly, overwhelmed at Frankenstein’s attentions. The feedback from their bond amplifies, reverberating between them with increasing intensity. Frankenstein’s eyes glint almost evilly and he gently rasps his fangs across vulnerable pulse points.

Blocked by the collar of his shirt, he gives Raizel one last long nip before withdrawing to deal with his Master’s clothes. He pauses briefly in consideration before slicing a smooth line down the length of the borrowed sleep shirt, forgoing the buttons entirely. The fevered pitch of Raizel’s pleasure drives him to move faster down his chest and stomach, trailing kisses and bruises and bites.

His Master squirms under his tongue, freed hands moving down to twist and tangle a little roughly in Frankenstein’s long hair. Franken growls low in pleasure, savoring the slight pain.

He reaches down to slip the loose sleep pants over his Master’s hips, adjusting his weight to smoothly slide them off with a skillful sweep. Brushing his fingers teasingly up Raizel’s length, he gives him a playful lick before sitting back upright.

Gently, Frankenstein untangles his Master’s fingers from his hair, setting them instead on his own hips and guiding his fingers to undress him.

Sliding back over Raizel’s lithe form, he pauses to drink in his expression: a deep flush across his face, pupils wide, eyes unfocused, panting softly through parted lips. Frankenstein kisses him deeply, tongue eagerly searching his mouth and tracing his Master’s now-prominent fangs.

They part breathlessly, and he slips a finger inside Raizel’s mouth. Raizel’s eyes widen briefly before he collects what is wanted from him.

_”Suck.”_

He watches hungrily as his Master licks and sucks around him, savoring the velvet heat. Slowly he reclaims his hand, saliva glistening wetly on Raizel’s lips.

He notes with interest that Rai’s eyes roll back and his lashes flutter as he sucks at his ear. Breathing softly against him, his Master shudders and arches just the slightest bit. Seeing his Master so easily manipulated under his touch is an utter delight, drawing so many new expressions and sounds from his beautiful Raizel.

A low growl rumbles deep in his chest. He bites down possessively at the base of Raizel’s neck, stopping short of drawing any blood. He is cautious of taking from his Master in this way, treating him delicately. The barest thought that he might drink energy from him takes the feeling from his fingers. He kisses his Master gently where he has bitten, then pulls away.

His Master is looking at him curiously, eyelids heavy. He smiles sweetly before moving back down.

Frankenstein pauses briefly to kiss at his navel as it is perfect and cute and because, knowing what he knows of Nobles, he suspects that it is purely aesthetic.

Drawing Raizel’s pale legs apart, he pauses, waiting until he has his Master’s full attention. Then he licks along his length before taking him into his mouth. Slowly, almost instructively, he goes down on him, until he himself becomes too engrossed in eliciting reactions from Raizel to remember that he was, in part, making a show of how it should be done.

Losing himself in Raizel, he acts solely to elicit pleasure. Happiness flows from him like a fountain. He presses himself indulgently against his Master, chasing friction as his emotions spiral. He could get off just like this, but he won’t. He owes it to Raizel to put up a proper showing.

He traces his Master with a still-slick finger and then slips it delicately inside. Another soft sound escapes him, his Master entirely overwhelmed and caught off guard at the intrusion. Frankenstein can’t help but smile around him and swallow him deeper, working at him luxuriously with his tongue, now firmly settled on claiming all of his Master for himself, on knowing him thoroughly inside and out.

To Raizel, it is bliss itself, feeling so thoroughly had. At the tiniest flash of pain, his Bonded shifts his activities and intensifies his focus somewhere else. He bucks as a second finger is thrust inside of him, movement confusing and overwhelming. His mind fractures. He doesn’t know what to think, what to do, what he feels. The force of Frankenstein’s own lust and enjoyment tips him over the edge. Wings burst from his shoulders as he arcs, unfurling and spreading across the bed as he spills himself in his Bonded.

Frankenstein draws back, mouth full, savoring every aspect of his release. With indulgence bordering on hedonism, he swallows, savoring his Master’s vulnerability, how he trembles slightly, outstretched wings an unexpected delight. When Raizel’s eyes slowly slip open, his exquisite gaze is accentuated by the jewel-tone red of finely tipped points reminiscent of feathers. Frankenstein, on his knees between his Master’s spread legs, strokes himself fervently. Covering Raizel in cum would complete the aesthetic, but it can wait. He does not aspire to end their enjoyment so soon.

As Raizel comes back to himself, the overwhelming chaos in his mind and soul mellow into the beginnings of a serene euphoria. But Frankenstein’s need courses through their bond and he can feel his own lust rising up again in response.

He gazes in wonder at Frankenstein, working himself shamelessly, taking what he wants for himself as he does in all things. His sharp eyes see something he can’t, looking into possibilities and planning for the future even as he absorbs every aspect of their present.

When Raizel is suitably recovered, Frankenstein reaches down to gently help him up, careful to keep his wings from being ruffled or uncomfortably pressed, preferring not to encourage his Master to dismiss them out of convenience. Raizel presses forward to kiss him deeply. When he draws back Frankenstein catches the glint of cum on his Master’s lips.

Smiling, he pulls Raizel down on top of him, tumbling with him backwards onto soft, disheveled sheets.

Frankenstein blushes to be so caught beneath his Master, erection pressing at him unintentionally. Raizel is possessed of the impulse to press down over him, but stops short sensing that, while his Bonded wants this, he had been planning for something specific. Instead, he leans over him, caressing is face and pushing back golden strands of hair.

Frankenstein finds himself struck immobile at the overwhelming sight of his Master, full wings accenting his already glorious beauty, staring enticingly down at him from above.

Raizel closes his eyes and nuzzles against his cheek, tenderly and affectionately acknowledging what is his. Kissing him slowly and passionately, gently sucking at his lip until he catches again his starstruck gaze. He caresses his throat, then bites down delicately, careful to avoid causing damage but noticing with interest how his Bonded responds favorably to the pain. He watches as Frankenstein shudders and arches back into the bed, a strangled moan vibrating through him, mingled disbelief and deep pleasure.

Then Raizel, good student that he is, goes down on Frankenstein. What he lacks in technique, he makes up for through sheer telepathic immersion in his partner. He can see how Frankenstein views him, and pours all of his efforts into imparting to Franken that he is his own precious treasure, held delicately in his regard from the first moments of their contact in an empty manor back in Lukedonia. That he has cherished and adored him above all else, his blindingly bright soul beautiful beyond compare. He can feel Frankenstein flush deeply under the weight and intensity.

_"You are mine. I will claim what belongs to me."_

Frankenstein almost loses it right then and there.

Purposefully and carefully, Raizel stops sucking, pulling off of him with a lewd pop. Attentively following the path of Frankenstein’s wishes, he wets his fingers well with his own tongue. He traces him teasingly until his Bonded is squirming and tense and every fiber of his being is screaming at Raizel to act. He plunges two fingers into him roughly, twisting and caressing with careful deliberation. With his free hand he strokes along him firmly but slowly, still wet with saliva and dripping with precum.

Feeling his Bonded shudder in pleasure, taught with anticipation and need, he shoves in another two fingers. Frankenstein moans unabashedly.

Raizel’s eyes lose focus, hit with the unfamiliar oneness of pleasure and pain, accepting it into himself, trembling at the force of Frankenstein’s need. When the pain is gone and there is only pleasure, Raizel stops stroking him and wets his hand, going to work on himself, instead. He gathers what is wanted from him, but is completely, mind-blowingly, earth-shatteringly unprepared when he thrusts into Frankenstein. He freezes, shuddering under the weight of their combined rapture, entirely overwhelmed at being swallowed up in wanting pressure and heat, and simultaneously bearing the weight of Frankenstein’s bliss at being filled up by him physically, at the sheer rightness of tangling up their bodies as they had already entangled their very souls. They tense and arch as one.

Frankenstein cries out and cums liberally, legs wrapping around Raizel’s waist, dappling them both in warm white. Raizel’s release fills him, his Master pushed beyond his bounds at their combined ecstasy.

They ride out their orgasm together, shuddering and shivering and resonating as one.

As he slumps over in exhaustion, Frankenstein gently guides Raizel to lie down on his side. His Master is completely overcome. Frankenstein kisses him once on soft lips, then sits back to drink it all in.

His Master lies naked and disheveled among crumpled silk sheets, his belly slick with his cum and his eyes heavy with tranquil exhaustion. He runs a hand along Raizel’s pale skin and smiles in deep satisfaction, warm heat in his stomach, muscles relaxed.

Then he reaches out to stroke at his strangely shifting wings. In another life, he might have sought to pluck a feather-like piece for himself, but right now he is content in the knowledge that he possesses all of them, the entirety of the divine being laid out before him. He would not mar such perfection.

He kisses Rai’s soft hair before leaving the room. Returning with a warm, wet washcloth, he proceeds to tenderly wipe his Master clean.

He leaves to wash himself, then rushes back with a sick jolt. His Master’s wings are gone and he seems to be drifting near sleep. This is not a situation he is familiar with for his Master, and he doesn’t want to risk him falling asleep and waking up again as the Previous Lord. He is not about to lose Raizel like that. He kisses him back to a state of awareness, then pulls him over to lie atop his chest.

Frankenstein’s eyes are drawn to a watercolor splash of blue on his Master’s bare shoulder, ink outlining the green tip of an illustrated wing. He stares at it as Raizel snuggles in closer, running his fingers over the visible part on his bare skin, frowning slightly. Mentally bothered by it, even if every other aspect of his being is satiated and euphoric and calm as he's never been before in his life. _It clashes with Master’s wings._

He still hasn’t sorted out his own feelings on its subject. Some possessive part of him is giddy with terrible delight that his love bears his mark. But the majority of him is settled in deep annoyance that his Master was marked at all, especially with such a large, illustrative reference to the Previous Lord’s insulting pet name for himself, artistic merit or no.

"Frankenstein, I like blue," Raizel whispers softly into the silence, in response to Frankenstein’s obvious line of thought. He brushes back golden hair to better reveal the deep azure gaze of his Bonded. Frankenstein blushes, frozen, eyes a little wide before abruptly they close, a delighted smile lighting up his entire face. He snuggles in closer, pulling Raizel tight. "I would at least like to see it before deciding what to do. I can remove it at any time."

 _No._ his smile evaporates as his grip on his Master tightens. Fire flares up once again in his core, cold fear tingling in his extremities. _You will do no such thing._ He can't bear the thought of losing even a moment with his transient love, especially over something so trivial. Either he, himself, will fix it, or he'll love it as it is part of his Raizel. He doesn’t want to chance even a second of his Master's life over a clash against the Lord’s frivolous use of power.

”I would have you with me just a little bit longer. Please, Master, let me have your time.”

He feels the shift in his Raizel, feels the deep sadness well up from within, not for himself, but for his Bonded. And he knows that, for his sake, he is genuinely trying. All the concessions he makes, even in his day to day, when he actively disregards the casual inclination to use his own great power to take care of every little thing, as is the birthright of any Noble. As was his habit for all of his long life before his servant appeared before him. Something that Nobles don't even think about, and yet his Master takes the time to consider every little thing, allowing him to take those tasks for him himself. As much as it might be inconvenient for him, as much as it might make him feel like an invalid, incapable of the thoughtless nothings that Frankenstein now pours himself into doing on his behalf. With all of himself, he does these things, making the arrangement as pleasant and easy for Raizel as possible, serving treats for his enjoyment, crafting clothing and arranging for his every need to be met. He knows the depth of Raizel's devotion, that he would shift his own dependence onto him in this way. And he is grateful, with every fiber of his being, that his Master has allowed him this.

But the large expenditures of life still occur. They still encounter horrors that his Master feels duty-bound to put down. His Master is selflessness itself, and he acts in all things only after making careful judgments. He has never meant to hurt him with his spending, only sought to do what he must, what is right. And his Master is truly, grandly wonderful, to use himself in such a way. But Frankenstein is selfish. Genuinely and horribly selfish. He would take from his Master further, strip him of carrying out his sentences on his own, as he has stripped him of his very independence. He would become his weapon, bleed on his behalf, at his merest whim or inclination. He would hold his precious Master aside, reserving him, diverting him with every pleasant distraction.

A distraction. Raizel stirs from his haze of comfort and pleasure at the intrusion of Frankenstein's own musings, his sadness and frustration and fear spilling over into his partner. _This won't do._

"Master, might I take a liberty?" Raizel's eyes adopt a note of curiosity, a bright spark lighting up the backdrop of his sorrow. Frankenstein has withdrawn his own thoughts, keeping his Master in suspense.

"You may."

A tender smile lights his face, anticipation and exhilaration rushing to replace his own unhappy musings. He shifts his Master gently onto his back, pressing up against his side, skin desperately pressed against skin. Running strong fingers through the ethereal darkness of his hair, he stops and lingers thoughtfully at his seal. He brushes it aside, then licks gently at his earlobe, taking it into his mouth and sucking, soft breath driving his Master to shudder.

"My Lord," he breathes slowly, tasting the words on his lips. A hesitation, a stutter in his heartbeat audible to his own ears, "Cadis Etrama di Raizel." Frankenstein himself arcs back in pleasure and anticipation, speaking words so boldly, such things as he has never before dared to utter. He presses back into him. "My Raizel." His Master's long lashes flutter as his eyes tilt back, utterly unprepared and defenseless against such an attack. "My Master."

***  
Eventually, Frankenstein is compelled to leave his room at the behest of his own ravenous thirst and hunger. Having taken note of the discomfort in himself, he practically flees to the kitchen to retrieve pleasantries for his Master. Humming contentedly, he bustles about heating water on the stove and putting trays in the oven.

As he goes to rinse his dishes in the sink, his hand stops short. A fresh residue of soapy bubbles clings to a single plate, a trail of lukewarm water splashed along the cool surface of the counter. He frowns. He hadn’t heard anything to indicate anyone else’s presence, though he admits to himself that he may be a touch distracted. Glancing around with renewed attentiveness, he spies several other indicators of recent habitation: a still-hot bag of popcorn left in the microwave, a cold can of soda just beginning to sweat. Standing perfectly still, he can hear nothing of the person who left them, not a shuffle or a hint of breath.

Snorting in derision, he gathers the popcorn and soda onto a tray along with fresh tea and cookies. If his employees aren’t going to show themselves, he might as well take their snacks back with him to Raizel. His Master enjoys trying new things, after all.

A flash of inspiration strikes him and he pauses. Returning to the fridge, he pilfers an aerosol can of whipped cream and adds it to the tray along with the other offerings. Perhaps the next time he’s out he’ll have to pick up some chocolate syrup. Or caramel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaay, smut. (＾▽＾)
> 
> Thanks for all the editing and advice, escspace! (Any lingering weirdness and/or unflattering word choices are all me, thanks.)
> 
> Also, as an aside, I didn't want to draw attention away from the scene but I figured that Shinwoo was watching porn featuring the human equivalent of Seira.
> 
> The next chapter is basically done, I’ll have it out soon~ <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raizel really can't resist ramen.

Frankenstein frowns down at his keyboard, eyes no longer taking in the illuminated symbols laid out below. His breathing is slow and deliberate, his pulse carefully controlled. Raizel is not at home and it’s threatening to break his carefully constructed poise. And while it was very much in his nature to worry, his paranoia and anxiety now threaten to bleed over into his Master.

His fears and concerns over Raizel’s safety and comfort were nothing new. Ancient, even. He'd been determined to serve as a shield for Raizel even before they formed a contract, and he's all but drowned in his protective instincts since he first saw his Master bleed after their reunion. But now, with his Master's tender heart entrusted to him, with the unparalleled privilege of holding its indescribably precious light in his arms, his protective impulse has abruptly flared, tightening around his soul like a vice.

A deep, controlled breath. In and out. Pulse slow and even. Tumultuous thoughts shielded and concealed.

What threatens to strangle him should never be revealed to his Master. It would be more shameful than he could bear to contaminate Raizel so, to impede upon his enjoyment of the life he’s only just begun.

He forces his thoughts to flow down a more logical path, an effort at soothing himself. Raizel is the one being to whom Frankenstein has given dominion over himself. That he himself is still a free man is more than enough reason to afford his Master that same courtesy, relative vulnerability or not.

 _It’s just taking some time to… adjust._ He can’t recall a time when his feelings and soul were ever laid so bare, his so nerves raw and tender to the touch. Control is becoming difficult to maintain, when his control over himself is the cornerstone of his very existence. He must regain his composure, and quickly.

And so, he finds himself here. Alone in his lab, while his beloved Master navigates the world outside. Focused on fixing the parts of himself that are suddenly askew, while continuing to make progress on his research.

Tao, Takeo, and M-21 should serve as sufficient guard for Raizel, as they would only need to protect him, _not shoulder the additional task of curbing the asinine intentions of an overpowered, stubborn-_

A wash of warm reassurance floods him through their bond. Their connection has remained very open, the rough equivalent to holding hands. Occasionally one or the other will withdraw to do something requiring more of their attention, but they always return to this state. Their new equilibrium. It is comfort itself, though more difficult to shield thoughts and emotions. Frankenstein yearns for the moment that he can truly relax into it, though he knows that’s likely to be the next time he holds Raizel safely in his arms. As it stands, he leans into the relief his Master provides, apologetic for flaring up to the point where he could no longer hide his emotions.

But with his fragile barrier already breached, Frankenstein _did_ have a few things he’d been aching to say to Raizel since the moment he’d first left his sight.

_“Master, please be conscious of Everyone. The Previous Lord has left behind a very tenuous situation. Read every thought and emotion. Alert me to the slightest hint of Anything suspicious and I will be by your side in an instant.”_

Amusement and indulgence flow through him. _“Franken, you have told me this before.”_

_“And Master, please do not drink outside of my presence!”_

The spiritual equivalent of a sigh. _“Tao says that I must maintain the Previous Lord’s mannerisms as closely as possible to continue with this ruse. But I will only sip at the wine.”_

Frankenstein smiles in amusement to imagine his dear Master earnestly attempting to put anything close to the Previous Lord’s level of exaggerated emotion and movement into anything, then frowns as he recalls the situation and what is at stake.

“This isn’t going to work. This really isn’t going to work,” he says out loud, shaking his head.

Still uncertain of how to handle the whole ‘gang lord’ situation, Frankenstein had thought it best to allow his Master and employees to continue on for a bit longer until he has improved his grasp and understanding of the situation enough to render this ill-constructed bomb inert. He is still waiting to hear back in detail from his contacts with law enforcement, but the preliminary info he’s received is not good. His Master is on their radar. Simply withdrawing Raizel or replacing him with himself would be too suspicious and risky.

Fortunately, Raizel is perfectly capable of gleaning the information necessary to converse with his lackeys directly from their minds, and with direction on how he should respond taken silently and with purpose from Tao. His dear Master had frowned at the idea of invading the minds of those around him at first, but Frankenstein had stressed that lives would likely be lost if he did not know how to direct ‘his’ people, that this was made necessary by the Previous Lord's interference with human affairs.

Frankenstein had accompanied them himself the first night, to observe and assist his Master. When he saw that he was managing close to passably, he had decided it best to hang back in order to continue his work, figuring this to be a more productive endeavor than hanging around binge drinking in the vain hope that it would somehow kill his worry for Raizel.

_At least Tao is enjoying himself._

Frankenstein's annoyance at the Previous Lord’s ‘visit’ has yet to begin to fade. His refusal to credit him with their romantic revelation (as that would be giving him _entirely_ too much credit) was perhaps a symptom of this, but even he couldn't resist feeling the tiniest bit softer towards him nonetheless. His intervention _had_ resulted in the greatest thing to happen to him since he first bonded with his Master, after all. But he was still incredibly irritated with him, and flat out Dark Spear-furious when anything related to children flits across his mind.

More soothing calm rolls over him, a warm and comfortable deluge. He sighs happily and leans back in his chair to stretch. His Master, his home, the sweet indulgence that he craves more than air. To be so casually inundated in this way sets his soul fluttering. Eyes half-lidded, soul thrumming, he returns to his work.

Raizel had granted Frankenstein a sample before heading out tonight. In the hours since he's been gone, Frankenstein had been running analysis on his blood, new data filling up his screen.

With exception to the bout of distraction brought on by their physical separation, Frankenstein works diligently in a lab that he would consider to be ‘secret’, as it does not correspond to a button on the elevator and is hidden deep underground. (It wouldn’t do to leave such precious components out where they could be easily found.) He does not know to what extent Raizel’s blood could actually be used against him as he holds dominion over blood itself, but it is also his weapon, possibly tied directly to his soul, and his Master is downright vulnerable compared to how he was when they first met. He would not be responsible for allowing it to fall into anyone else’s hands. _God only knows what the Union might think to do with it._ He shudders and turns away from such thoughts.

In his own hands, not a drop would be wasted. And while he wouldn't _dare_ experiment on Raizel himself, gathering further information on him would (he prayed, for he couldn't live with himself if he had taken from his Master unnecessarily) provide new avenues to explore towards the goal of his restoration.

 _...I should check Master’s blood sugar._ The thought occurs to him abruptly, his mouth thinning to a terse line.

***  
Humming softly to himself while thoroughly engrossed in a handful of complex tasks, it takes Frankenstein a moment to realize that his Master has asked him a question. He blinks a few times and stops what he is doing. _“Apologies, Master. Would you please say that again?”_

_“Tao has requested your advice: A human is here to dispute changes that the Previous Lord has made to his organization. He says that I must reconsider and allow them to resume activities because I have damaged their business. Tao says that this is a threat and he would like you to be informed.”_

_Fuck._

_“He would like me to accompany him to meet with his employers.”_

_“No, Master. Absolutely not.”_ Frankenstein is already in the elevator. _”Please stay where you are, I will be there shortly.”_

_”Frankenstein, I do not wish for humans to be sold.”_

_”And I will prevent it from happening. But I request that you do not leave with that man. Please stay with Tao and Takeo and M-21.”_

A pause, and then, _”I will honor your request.”_

Frankenstein lets out the breath he’s been holding. _Faster elevators,_ he thinks to himself in frustration. _I’m going to invent and install faster elevators._

***  
A quiet tension hangs over the bar. As the clientele primarily consists of affiliated gang members and their various guests and associates, the majority of its patrons recognize the man confronting Raizel. Discomfort and anxiety fill Raizel’s mind sympathetically. Curiously, only a handful of the people are leaving. Most are bristling in their seats and keeping a close eye on the situation as it unfolds before them.

Raizel wishes that they would all leave.

He is not concerned by the well-dressed man in front of him, but he can read what he has done and what he intends. What his employers intend. With growing distaste, he wonders how best to deal with him.

Tao and Takeo and M-21 are all hoping intensely that he will not act. Raizel finds this difficult to understand, as they are all victims of such a man, taken and sold into a life that they did not condone. Frankenstein is afraid, this he can feel vibrating through him like his own pulse. He judges this to be unnecessary. He retracts from him, reducing the intensity of borrowed emotions so he can better focus on the situation unfolding before him. He withdraws his awareness from the patrons in the bar, from the trio of modified humans.

“It would be wise for you to reconsider.”

He focuses on the dark haired, dark eyed man before him. His suit is reminiscent of what his Bonded would choose to wear, but his form is considerably larger. His mouth and eyes are quirked in dismissive, cold amusement.

Raizel can feel him sizing them up, passing judgments on his family and himself. He has devalued M-21 for his scar, but absently thinks that Takeo and Tao would be worth something if they weren’t likely to be disposed of in the course of their dealings.

Molten fury wells up inside of Raizel, filling his eyes if not his face.

The man thinks degradingly of Raizel’s form, picturing him as an unwilling participant in such situations as he has only recently come to experience with his Bonded. He casually assumes that he has the upper hand in this situation, that Raizel and his companions will soon be dead.

When Raizel delves deeper into the man's memories, he is flooded with such unsavory crimes that he is reminded of his days of formal trial in Lukedonia. Murder and rape and human trafficking, all heinous infractions carried out against weaker members of his own race. It would not take much power to dispose of him.

He can feel his Bonded calling out. He has indulged him by not moving this confrontation to a new location, but he is the Noblesse. It goes against his very nature to ignore such blatant transgressions against those who lack defense. He gathers himself, eyes glinting.

Abruptly, Frankenstein is there.

Materializing in the doorway, he immediately crosses the room to stand imposingly at Raizel's side, a half-step behind his Master. Straightening his clothes and tidying his hair, he takes a deep breath before letting it out a curt huff.

Frankenstein eyes the subtle evidence that his Master has begun to gather power and shoots him a sour look. He nudges at their bond and Raizel obliges, allowing them to mingle once again. Relief floods Frankenstein at their contact and proximity.

Suddenly everything feels much less serious. Ridiculous and mildly amusing even, though he can’t resist a chiding remark after such a near miss. _”Am I going to have to teach you how to use a gun? Please don't spend yourself so frivolously!”_

Raizel blinks twice, momentarily derailed. Interested because Frankenstein has proposed something new, and lost in thoughts of what he's seen of Takeo's skill set. He then recalls his own failed video game antics.

 _”Hm, you know? You're right. I'll find you something else.”_ His Bonded cheerfully shifts his own focus back to the room, the situation successfully diffused.

Frankenstein nods to his employees, and they slip from the room as he diverts the attention of the humans in the bar with a bit of his own mimicked, borrowed, and stolen power. He picks up the conversation where it had dropped off. “Apologies. We are ready to go with you, now. Please lead the way,” his tone is bright and pleasant as he nods to the stranger.

_”Master, please allow me to dispose of this trash discreetly.”_

The man’s lips curl into a sneer. “I’m here to escort Mr. Raizel, not his bodyguard. You’ll understand, I’m sure.”

After a moment of consideration, Raizel sends Franken his consent. _”This man violates his own kind. He does not deserve to live.”_

Frankenstein nods once in thought, catching one of the more offensive images that Raizel had gleaned and lingering on it. _"This… person… thought of doing such things to you?"_ He stiffens, a warped heat in his veins, good humor gone in the span of an instant. A dim cacophony rises in his ears and he can’t tell if it’s from the rush of his own blood or his own dear Lover.

 _"Frankenstein."_ His Master's call is firm and grounding, drawing his Bonded back from the dark paths he is drawn towards, soothing his furious aura.

With difficulty, he reins himself in. _"Apologies, Master. I would follow and intercept, if that is your will."_ He turns to face Raizel, bowing his head, gracing the stranger with a show of awaiting verbal instruction. Holding in his murderous intent with Herculean effort.

His Master's face softens ever so slightly, pleased that his Bonded maintains such control of himself. _"We will handle the problem at its root,"_ he directs. _This one alone would solve nothing."_

"I will accompany you." Raizel states aloud. His slight nod of consent is the epitome of graceful and gracious.

The dark-eyed newcomer cracks a cold smile, guiding Raizel around his Bonded and out of the bar with a firm, controlling hand placed on the center of his back. Raizel matches the man's pace and yields to his direction, as much as he doesn't care for the contact or the wrinkles in his clothing.

Frankenstein stands alone in the bar as its patrons come back to life, the buzz of conversation returning, oblivious to recent occurrences. Every muscle in his body is over-tight. Goosebumps cover every inch of his skin. He stands perfectly still, limbs carefully devoid of the furious wracking tremors that the physical manipulation of his Master threatens to incite.

***  
The pair slips smoothly down the busy sidewalk, walking abreast as though they are close companions and not captive and captor. The larger man smiles benignly at passersby, but the carefree nightlife scurries quickly away, granting them a wide berth. Perhaps something of his purpose shows through in his look, or perhaps there's something unnerving in the flatness of his companion's expression. Or perhaps they are merely recognized.

He remains unphased by this, humming cheerfully. Such reactions are hardly new. And this was turning out to be a simple assignment. Uncomplicated, and with the possibility of unexpected perks.

He diverts his charge into a poorly lit alley. Raizel’s silence turns almost sullen as his jacket and shirt are further creased by rough handling. The lovely things that Frankenstein had made for him, disheveled.

Raizel stops dead in his tracks, frowning lightly in displeasure. His slim frame provides an illogical amount of resistance. The larger man finds his arm jerked back, further compounding Raizel’s state of disarray and deepening his displeasure.

“I did not permit you to touch me.” His words are quiet but firm, his graceful hands busy in a vain attempt at smoothing wrinkled fabric. “Let go and I will follow.”

He blinks at Raizel for a moment in stark disbelief, mouth slightly agape at the gall of his prisoner.

Smooth as silk, the practiced movement a second nature, he draws and presses the cold barrel of a previously concealed pistol into Raizel’s chest. He steps in closer, hand still clutching at his back.

“You must have _some_ _nerve_ , talking to me like that. Does the situation escape you?” His breath is hot and moist on Raizel’s face. “You’ll do as I say, or I’ll have you down on your knees in the dirt, begging for your life like a little bi-”

A purple-traced hand is pressed flat against the muzzle of his gun, firmly wedged between his captive and himself.

He blinks again, several times in rapid succession, words stuck on his tongue. Uncertain of the logic behind the move, or the circumstances surrounding the reappearance of Mr. Raizel’s bodyguard. Or the violet glow now vaguely illuminating their surroundings.

“How dare you.” The words hold a livid edge, curt and almost trembling. Entirely too much emotion for a hired hand.

“How _dare_ you point a gun at my Master.”

 _What a strange choice of words. ‘Master’. Antiquated._ Deliberately, he closes and opens his eyes again, still struggling with the logic of the scene.

“How fucking _dare_ you disobey him.”

The sharp pain cutting through his arm is almost distant, as though it’s reaching out to him through layers of space and time. A thud. Could he even still feel his left arm?

“How fucking _Dare_ you… Touch him.”

A crunch. Some part of his brain registers the break to his other arm, the jarring wrench to his shoulder. Each heartbeat seems to bring with it a new slice of increasingly distant pain, as incomprehensible as the blur of motion before him.

“How dare you even _Think_ about him...”

He can feel the stance of his own body shift, his knees locking up, his shoulders slumping forward. He reels as he finds his whole world tipping over backward. He might have spent the whole day falling.

He doesn’t feel his own impact with the gritty pavement.

“How… How dare...” Frankenstein stops short, coming back to himself as the light in the man’s eyes dissipates. There was so little resistance. So little fight. He checks himself against the reality of the situation, uncertain of whether he is awake or somehow dreaming. Dark Spear crackles sharply down his spine. His hands and arms are dripping.

_Claws._

He withdraws Dark Spear hurriedly, in the same movement turning to bow low before his Master. Blood dapples the soft black leather of Raizel’s shoes. He scrunches his eyes tight to block out the sight, horror and humiliation rushing to embrace him in place of his weapon. What has he done in such close proximity to his Master?

Waves of concern flow through Frankenstein, a gentle consideration checking him over inside and out. _My sweet, Master. How kind._

A soft shift in pressure, and the congealing liquid is gone. He flinches, having forced Raizel to use a bit of his power to clean them, then relaxes, dipping lower as he considers the alternative. Controlling or removing a human, while not any great display of effort for his Master, would have surely spent more. He treasures his Raizel jealously, but such a small act is uncommon enough to be dismissed under the circumstances. Raizel does hate to be unkempt, after all.

Breathing deeply, he relaxes a bit more under the comforting weight of his Master’s soul. If not for the fact that he’d just betrayed a bit of his own ugliness in front of his pure and innocent Master, he might, in this very moment, embody the very spirit of serenity.

“That was not very discreet, Frankenstein.”

“Hmm?” The sound escapes pursed lips reflexively as he glances up in mild confusion.

“You asked my permission to dispose of him ‘discreetly’,” Raizel reminds him gently. "And you did not wait until we had found the others."

 _Oh._ “My deepest apologies, Master. It slipped my mind that I had said that, and I lost my patience when he… That is certainly no excuse-” He stops short at the sight of Raizel’s raised hand.

The silence between them is long, as Raizel carefully gathers his words.

"And I did not permit the use of your weapon."

Tension creeps back into Frankenstein’s shoulders. He truly couldn't recall the moment when he decided to draw upon Dark Spear, but he regretted it now, even to that small extent. It clearly hadn't been needed.

He waits stiffly through another thoughtful pause.

"I might have told you to await your… 'punishment'... from me tonight, but I do not wish to encourage further misbehavior." Raizel's words are almost teasing, awash in affection.

Frankenstein dips wordlessly lower, hiding his heated flush behind the soft golden curtain of his hair. If there exists any greater incentive to do right by Raizel, in this moment he can't imagine it.

 _Perhaps our new dynamic will be easier to adjust to than I had feared._. The realization that his Master is still his Master, that he can still compel him so effortlessly and that he himself apparently wants nothing more than to submit before him makes Frankenstein’s soul sing.

Raizel’s eyes widen in pleasant shock as he finds them abruptly more interwoven, his Bonded so vibrant and audible within the fringes of his own soul.

“Hey, what’s going on?" Tao rounds the corner into the narrow alley almost breathlessly. "Oh! Hey…" He minces hurried steps to avoid splashing through pooled blood. "Um, okay, so the guy… Oh, wow, his arm's all the way over there."

"Tao! Perfect timing." Frankenstein rises smoothly to address him. "You brought a pair of cleaning gloves with you, did you not?" A brief pause to savor the man's reaction. "I'm being facetious, Tao. The KSA owes me a few favors."

"O-okay, Boss." Tao's voice is a little weak. The fact that he _had_ concealed a pair on his person was perhaps unnecessary to volunteer, in case it made his service too convenient. "So… What I was going to say… Oh! Yeah, we caught the guy's backup. M-21's keeping an eye on them while Takeo checks for more."

"Perfect! This one didn't quite manage to take us to his employers, so I think I'll go ask them for directions." Frankenstein’s sharp joy is almost contagious. "If I may, Master?"

***  
“Shit. That’s a Noblesse,” swore one faceless shadow to another.

“Ha! Why on earth would you say that? It’s just a guy! Looks like a local. Or maybe a half and half? Anyway, he’s fucking things up to be sure, but he’s not trouble. He even has a bodyguard! What kind of Noblesse would need a bodyguard? Don’t get me wrong, Union’ll still use ‘im. There’s just no need to make a big thing of it. We’ve just gotta fix the supply line back the way it was.”

“No, just watch. Look! See? I don’t know about the others, but the red eyes betray him. He’s a Noblesse. I’ve brought one in before, I know what I’m talking about. And the bodyguard’s probably his thrall or something. Might be that they all are. God only knows why he’d need a guard, so that’s what I’m going with.”

“Huh. You sure they aren’t just reflecting somethin’? He’s awfully far away… …Oh, hey! Don’t go spinnin’ bullshit just ‘cause you’ve been here longer.”

“Heh! Think what you want. I’m telling you, I’ve brought one in.” He looks over at his partner expectantly, head tilted back and eyebrows raised, waiting for the other to humor him with the requisite lip service.

“...Fine, I’ll bite. How do you imagine to have done it.”

“Well, it almost didn’t happen, I’ll tell you that!” the words spew immediately from the man’s mouth as though pressurized. “A real close thing. She had us cornered, you see, and I just knew she was going to drain me dry! I couldn’t move, excepting when she took her eyes off of me to look over my partner. Poor Danny, may he rest in peace. Anyway! I acted fast…,” he pauses dramatically before pantomiming the next bit, “I stuck him real quick with one of those sedatives we keep for rowdy cargo, got him right in the back, then shoved him at her. She struck, drank him to a husk. And it was damn fast, too! He was gone in, like, a minute. Or it seemed like a minute… Anyway, after that she kinda tilted sideways. I jumped on it, all nerves and adrenaline. I got her over and over. Sedatives what, five, six times? And I stabbed her plenty, too. Would have been a miracle that she didn’t die, except they don’t die, right? Already dead or something?”

His partner stares at him openly, caught midway between enchantment at the story and reservation that the older man is taking him for a ride.

“No, I’ve got this,” he continues smugly. “We’ll get someone. Someone awfully tempting. Someone we’ve got something on. We’ll get them to do it for- Fuck!" He shivers, for a moment frozen. "… ...I think he just saw us.” Pallor washes over him, indiscernible in their concealment. His duplex reticle scope slips from nerveless fingers.

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny. I’m not falling for your jump-scare, you stupid piece of shit. Let’s just-,” he stops short, his eye catching a glint of distant, distant red. Impossibly far away. Too incredible for coincidence. His own scope falls. Reaching out a hand to steady himself against his partner, he connects with nothing and topples gracelessly to the cold metal floor of their perch. The other man is already gone.

***  
“Master, what is it?” Frankenstein stops immediately, sensing that his Master is no longer following him to the address given by their captives. M-21, Tao, and Takeo automatically assume defensive positions, looking around attentively.

“Someone was watching us,” he says impassively after a moment, his face betraying nothing of what he feels. Nothing of concern or even curiosity flows from him.

Frankenstein turns to face the same direction as Raizel, bristling nonetheless as he scans the dark cityscape. “Was?”

After a long moment of fruitlessly staring at nothing, Raizel turns back to their apparent path. The rest follow suit. Franken’s brow remains furrowed.

***  
“Hey, Frankenstein. Does what Rai said last night about being watched not sit well with you, either?” M-21 leans against an examination table in one of Frankenstein’s labs.

Frankenstein shoots him such a scathing look as to question his intelligence for suggesting that it _wouldn't_ still be bothering him before turning back to his computer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You remember… You remember when '24 and I kept crossing your path way back when?"

"You mean 'way back when' as in a few months ago? Why yes, I _do_ recall." His tone is sharp but his expression betrays his amusement.

"Yeah, well. Rai kept making eye contact with us back then. It was almost like he just knew or something. It's just…"

"You think that Master saw someone else like you?"

M-21's expression is deadly serious as his head dips down in a nod.

"Then I guess we should be heading out."

***  
Raizel sips distractedly at his still-warm cup of tea. The new coffee table in their recently refurbished living room is heavily laden with an array of sweets, and a benign Disney flick plays across their new, larger, sleeker television. Normally the bright colors and absolutely foreign plot might have held his attention, but right now his focus drifts, centering back in periodically. Just often enough for him to be completely lost by the apparent argument over the virtues of blue over pink, or of pink over blue. And hadn't there been a dragon? Some difficulties while baking a cake?

He pushes the largest button on the remote, switching the screen to a quiet, glossy black. He is no longer accustomed to being alone. The luxuries and diversions piled high around him do little to negate the lack of company.

Raizel frowns slightly. Frankenstein is fairly withdrawn from him, attempting to keep him from distress at his activities. He is secure in his trust that his Bonded is following the rules and would alert him if he found himself in need of assistance, but the distance is not his preference.

Glancing around the room, his eyes are drawn to a tidy pile of completed school work. Sadly, there has been no more for him to complete, and his month-long absence from school will likely make catching up to the rest of his class a difficult endeavor at best.

He knows that contacting the children would likely draw them to danger, but he still misses them dearly. Misses the routine cadence of their regular activities.

Mind settled, he returns his cup to its delicate porcelain saucer and rises from his seat.

***  
Wandering the familiar streets is a lonelier endeavor than he remembers, his solitary image reflected back at him from the windows of the bustling internet cafe, from familiar office buildings, from the neighborhood grocery store. Colorful strangers nod to him in the street, their familiarity and lack of fear a welcome backdrop to his adventures. Bags overburdened with packaged ramen, he makes his meandering way back home to begin the process of making dinner for his family, to share with them upon their return.

A rush of familiar colors bombards him, crashing into him bodily.

***  
 _"Franken, I was not aware that there were restaurants that serve ramen,"_ his Master sends him excitedly.

Frankenstein bites back a cringe. _"Master, it isn't healthy to consume so much of the same thing. Especially ramen!"_

His audible sigh causes his trio of employees to shoot him a collective concerned and nervous look. He waves a hand dismissively while continuing his silent conversation. Takeo and Tao turn back to watch as M-21 persuasively extracts information from a particularly guilty and expensively dressed man.

_"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Master. Are you alright without company? I know it's not ideal, but I appreciate your allowing me to handle this trifling matter."_

_"I am not alone. I'm with a woman. She offered to take me with her to eat ramen."_

Frankenstein blinks in apparent astonishment. His surprise dissolves into an onslaught of outright shock and jealousy as Raizel sends him an image of his companion, a tall, well-built blonde, buxom and beautiful. Sharp sapphire eyes framed by long flowing curls of spun gold. The woman could very well be his own sister. He bottles these emotions as quickly as they emerge, unwilling to admit insecurity to his partner. It occurs to him then that he's never actually discussed sexuality or preferences with his Master.

_"She has sex for money. She calls herself Dana."_

_"...... Is that so, Master."_ He keeps his side of their communication as flat as he can manage.

_"Yes. She wanted to have sex but I declined, and now she wants to eat. She is afraid, so I will accompany her."_

_… If Master is going to be seen out in public, the company of a prostitute is at least in keeping with the Previous Lord's charade._ Standing stiffly, Frankenstein does his best to dismiss his concerns.

_"... She may request money for the time she spends with you. If this is the case, please let me know and I will walk you through it. There should be enough to cover a couple of hours in your wallet. If she charges more than that I'll meet up with you to give you the rest at your convenience."_

Raizel sends back his deep affection and appreciation. His Bonded is always so considerate and thoughtful. Then his attention is drawn back to his new companion as she sets two steaming bowls down on their table.

Frankenstein can't help but smile under the warmth of Raizel's regard. Disregarding the particulars of his Master's consort, he is pleased that he is not alone and that he is enjoying himself. He turns back to the task at hand, determined not to pry.

Instead he smiles absently as the human trafficker before him is threatened and pummeled by one of his employees, blows restrained enough to avoid ending the man, but still painful. M-21 clearly has a strong grasp of Frankenstein’s own style. _This man is certainly unfortunate to have lashed out at Takeo._

His smile widens into a grin when Tao turns to him to suggest applying electricity to their captive to speed up the process. _Hmm, yes. Tao certainly has a way with others._

***  
With respect, Raizel carefully avoids focusing too hard on the woman before him. She exudes tension, fear, and regret, but he can't really help picking up on that. He graciously ignores the intrusive emotions. Instead, he focuses all that he has on making polite conversation.

"Did you buy this ramen with sex?" he inquires innocently.

"Oh, um… In a manner of speaking, yes," she says candidly, caught entirely off guard. "Well, um, thanks again for keeping me company. I hope you enjoy your meal."

She flashes him a winning smile and snaps her disposable chopsticks in half. After a moment of slurping noodles, she notices the dark haired man across from her staring intently into his untouched bowl. _Does he… Know? That isn't supposed to be..._ Her brow furrows as she sips delicately at her broth, not daring to even finish the thought for fear of betraying her intentions.

After their silence has long since drifted into discomfort and her concern has grown until she's afraid she might be dripping literal sweat, her companion at last moves to take his own set of chopsticks.

***  
Frankenstein freezes in place, physically dropping the thug he had been dangling aloft.

Confusion from his Master. Fading consciousness. A fading link.

Urgently he calls out to find out what has happened, but is met with blurry silence. He cries out, yells through their bond, but their connection grows fainter even as his panic grows fevered.

Leaving everything behind in a heartbeat, he races into the night, chasing the distant tail of his vanishing comet. He can sense no discharge of power. He receives no response. His connection grows cold and inaccessible.

A velvety blackness wells up to cover their bond before he can find his Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for the help, escspace! You kept me from being totally derailed.
> 
> I figured that if anyone was going to actually bring in Rai without him using his power and without Frankenstein interfering (and without getting >really< detailed with planning, introducing OCs, inventing politics, and/or dramatically and irreparably shifting the tone away from ‘fluff’), the plan was going to involve deception and drugs. (Incidentally, that’s why this took me so long to get out. Rewrites and lots of overthinking!)
> 
> ‘Raizel really can't resist ramen.’ ← The words are visually balanced. °˖✧(￣▽￣)°˖✧


	9. Chapter 9

After what he recalls as a pleasant night of overindulgent drinking, the Previous Lord wakes up groggily in a cylindrical tank, suspended in liquid and connected to an assortment of wires and tubes. Confusion flickers through him like the light from a dying fluorescent bulb.

He traces the path of Raizel's bond from where he intersects it, sending out a thought with as much focus as he can muster. His subconscious picks up that there must be something interfering with his powers, as the act requires unusual effort. _"Frankenstein, what's going on?"_

 _"What do you mean? Where are you? What has happened to Master? Is he... What is his condition?"_ The response he receives from Frankenstein is almost instantaneous, but faded and difficult to discern. Faint rushes of terror and panic and rage flit through to him in weak waves, shocking him briefly into a state of greater awareness at each crest.

After an indiscernible amount of time has passed, the Previous Lord collects himself enough to reply. _"Your lab, but larger... There are humans. Not you? In water… I can't think. Can't check on Raizel, might wake..."_

He is snatched again from the clutches of sleep by an intense surge from Raizel's Bonded. Outside of purposeful communication on his own part, the Previous Lord's connection with Frankenstein is one-sided. The Bonded man is practically screaming at him, bombarding him emotionally with everything he has. _"Wake the fuck up and tell me what you see!"_

The Previous Lord shakes Raizel's head to rouse himself, a muted movement through the liquid. He clenches long fingers and looks down to take stock of his situation. _"I see lines. They disappear in my arms, I think they go inside."_ His hands go up. _"Something is covering my mouth and nose, but I can breathe. There are lights and people outside of the water. I can't hear their thoughts. It is difficult to stay focused."_

 _"Grasp the lines firmly and pull them out. Leave the mask. Be sure to keep Master under. Tell me when this is done."_ The instructions are steady and firm as iron. He would smile at the novelty of being commanded in this way were the situation different.

After a couple of clumsy attempts, he manages to take hold of the plastic tubing. It comes out easily with a single jerk of his hand. The odd, unfamiliar sensation of pain sparks and dies into a dull discomfort as a splay of red fades into the translucent liquid. He releases the tubes to float aimlessly.

As time passes, his awareness grows. Bits of thoughts and cohesive words begin to make their way into his mind from the humans he can sense around him. Seeming to solidify somewhat, he uses the opportunity to curl densely around Raizel, using his own inky black presence to keep him oblivious to occurrences beyond his own apparent slumber.

_"It’s done."_

***  
"The Union has Master. He's in one of their labs," the words leave him flatly, his mind numb. The situation is utterly surreal. The others are with him, but he doesn't see them or register their reactions.

Frankenstein shivers, cold in Raizel’s absence.

His own ill-begotten bastard of an organization, born of a mistress he had never wanted, was preparing to vivisect his gentle Master. Over and over again, studying his regeneration and the scope of his abilities, the uses his body might be put to, unaware that his life force would very soon be spent. Perhaps they might attempt to modify him in some way, to turn him into something they could use. Or perhaps they would simply disassemble him for parts.

And he knew from his own cruel experience how that would go. He, who had once greedily laid into every guilty Noble he could get his hands on, could see it as clearly as if it were laid out on a table before him a thousand years after the fact. He could see the naive lack of understanding for the situation, the confusion at what to feel at the first slice of his knife, the exact moment when they settled on terror and pain. The screams were still audible around their gags, even if their psychic abilities and other powers were muted by his sedatives. At the time, it had drawn a wicked smile to his face.

A wave of nausea hits him like blunt trauma, bitter bile rising. With great difficulty he swallows it back down past the dry lump in his throat.

If they intended to part him out, it meant that they were unaware of his identity. It would be easier to retrieve him in terms of security. However, it also meant that they were short on time. The Union wasn't known for its wise resource allocation or its patience. Had they been aware of his identity they would have likely locked him away somewhere more long-term and harder to access, keeping him under with more force. Somewhere private, not the large, populated lab that the Previous Lord had described.

Black rage wells up from deep within, and with it, his poison-tipped Lover. **_How dare they_** , they call, they cackle, they cry, echoing his own thoughts enticingly. **_We curse them._**

Frankenstein closes his eyes almost wistfully before shoving Dark Spear back. He will need to think clearly to recover Raizel in time.

 _Shut up, I need to focus. Leave me alone and I'll let you out when there’s someone for us to kill. I promise there will be plenty._ Though curt, his words carry a touch of indulgent sympathy. His poor Lover, always so pitifully thirsty, so eager to reach out and spread their pain to others. A forced commiseration, soothing themselves by drawing others in. With great difficulty and greater anticipation, they curl back into his shadows, seething excitedly to themselves.

Frankenstein comes back to himself somewhat at the weight of M-21's hand on his shoulder. His employees stand around him, pale and tense and ready to follow his command.

 _"It’s done."_ The Previous Lord's voice cuts quietly through his thoughts. He sounds more present this time, more alert, though still dreadfully quiet and distant.

He draws a deep steadying breath, forcing himself to focus. The Previous Lord’s presence is something to be grateful for, for once. _“Alright, next we need to get you out of that tank. Without the IV tubes, they’ll likely flood it with a sedative or a poison. Can you move, yet?”_

_”...Oh. Was I supposed to wait in the tank?”_

Frankenstein’s breath catches in his throat. Of course. Of course he wouldn’t wait for instructions. Of _fucking_ course.

***  
The Previous Lord ambles along a touch unsteadily, trailing viscous fluids in a long puddle across the cold tile floor. Startled lab technicians and scientists stand frozen in place around him, struck still in varying states of activity. A tableau of wide-eyed, living statues. Warning lights flash and a repetitive buzzing blares rhythmically, but out of time with the lights.

_Distracting._

He shatters the emergency devices where they flare along the walls and ceiling, killing the reverberations in his own mind along with them.

Casually, he strips the long, white research coat from the back of a particularly distraught-looking older man, flaring it dramatically about himself to cover Raizel’s relative nakedness. Hands braced against slim hips and face set in a severe frown, he surveys the room and his captives. He huffs out a sigh, uncertain of his next move. The other tanks lining the walls of the chamber are blessedly empty. In fact the whole lab has the appearance of being quite newly made.

Scanning the frenetic thoughts of his little collection of humans, he remains unconvinced of their guilt. Surely, they had been up to no good, what with how they had been treating his dear Raizel, but what he collected from them was largely the fear that he, himself would attack them, devour and enslave them. That, and a gripping terror of their own keepers. Perhaps there was more at work here? At the very least, he should conserve himself, not knowing what else is to come.

He pauses in his train of thought to interact again with Raizel’s Bonded human. Frankenstein wants to be shown his location? Hmm, couldn't he just follow the path of their communication? Or were they too far apart for that? And my, the man sounded particularly murderous today. What was the state of his weapon? It wouldn’t do for Dark Spear to take control while Raizel slept. _"So how did you lose Sir Raizel to these humans?"_ he chooses to ask instead.

_"I don't know, a prostitute took him out for dinner. It doesn’t matter. You’re in a Union lab, we need to move quickly. Show me where you are and I’ll retrieve you."_

_"A prostitute? How interesting! That seems entirely out of character, for both of you. Has so much changed since I went to sleep?”_ He pauses to allow for Frankenstein’s predictable outburst. _“Well, no matter! This isn’t quite what I had in mind, but I can work with it. Humans are so full of surprises, always shifting! I would shift as well.”_

Mind made up, he drops the conversation, taking the furious hissing threats from Frankenstein in stride while largely ignoring their contents. The depth of Frankenstein’s emotion brings a fond smile to his lips, but a bit of worry might encourage the man to do a better job of protecting Raizel in the future. And he’d prefer to have a greater understanding of the situation before bringing in a wild card.

Figuring that he’ll need to venture out beyond the lab to gain information on these ‘Union’ humans and find the ones responsible for Raizel’s capture, he scans the room for an exit. With a casual sweep of his hand, his white-clad captives drop limply to the floor. The elevator doors don’t respond to their buttons, but it is no matter. They slide easily open at his command.

Standing at the threshold of the empty elevator shaft, he considers the relative merits of up versus down.

***  
M-21 has never seen Frankenstein so livid. Violet energy crackles and sparks freely from his frame, coursing through his surroundings and contaminating the very air, making it difficult to breathe. The metal railing under his hands is warped with corrosion and the definite impression of his fingers. Curses and accusations fly from him audibly, definitely not a good sign.

"What the Fuck do you mean, 'had in mind'?! If you set this up, so fucking help me, I'll-" He stops short, apparently scrambling at how to properly extract excruciating revenge without harming his Master.

"Hey… Hey, Frankenstein. It- it's going to be okay,” M-21's coos awkwardly, patting the man's shoulder. Even with his enhanced healing, moving through Frankenstein's aura is enough to singe his hands. "Did you find out any more about what happened to Raizel? Or maybe where he is? If _that_ guy's awake… I mean, isn't that a good thing? All things considered?"

The look in Frankenstein’s eyes is that of pure animal desperation, utterly devoid of sane reasoning. Hardly any blue remains behind the violet. He jerks around as Takeo and Tao lay their hands on him, lending their support.

After a moment, he seems to register the intent of their actions. He withdraws back into himself, physically composed if not emotionally stable.

"I can't feel much through the connection when he speaks, and now he’s not even giving me that. Master's in that direction." He gestures vaguely in the air before him, a broad motion encompassing the entirety of cardinal North. "Somewhere. But that…," he drops off again, struggling to maintain his composure, "He's keeping him- The Previous Lord is keeping Master’s location from me." Violet-black aura shifts again along his frame, roiling off of his body like waves of heat.

Steadfastly, the trio tighten their grip, ignoring the pain in their efforts to keep him grounded.

M-21 shares a dark, knowing look with Takeo and Tao. If the Previous Lord had it in his mind to do something, threats and pleading would only make it worse.

"Well… In at case, let's start with what we know," M-21's voice gathers confidence as his tactics seem to be somewhat effective at engaging with Frankenstein. "You were talking to Rai when we were going after those assholes earlier, did he say anything suspicious?"

"Dana," the name escapes him softly, almost a whisper.

"Huh? What was that?"

"We need to find Dana. The woman he was with." Frankenstein’s expression is one of iron and fire, his tone is absolute.

***  
The comfortable, ordinary chatter of their familiar haunt threatens to draw them into another reality as they march with purpose across the polished wood floor. Only Raizel’s conspicuous absence and Frankenstein’s furious presence prevent the trio from falling into the habit of their old routine. Even now, M-21 strides confidently up to a companion, grasping his wrist firmly in greeting.

“Hey, man. I need a favor from you. It’s urgent.”

“Anything!” The burly man’s voice is steady, despite the empty bottles before him. “What can I help ya with?”

“Um, well,” M-21 glances around, suddenly conscious of how far their voices carry. “We need to find a woman.” M-21’s informant has the good grace not to laugh, though he can’t seem to resist raising an eyebrow at their ‘urgent’ favor. “A prostitute named Dana.”

“‘Dana’? Can’t say that I know of her. You got her last name? Any other names she might go by? If she’s _that_ kind of lady, she’s likely got a handful.”

M-21 shifts on his feet, brow furrowed in concern. He glances back at Frankenstein for assistance, but his employer is already stepping forward. The blonde rests his palms heavily on the table and leans in, addressing M-21’s informant directly. “She looks a lot like me. Perhaps you’d remember her?”

“Oh. Oh! You mean Diana! Yeah, I couldn’t forget someone like her. Begging your pardon, I didn’t know you were looking for your sister.”

Tao’s breath catches and he bites his lip to keep quiet. M-21 and Takeo bury their confusion behind heroic stoicism. Knowing Rai, this was all some sort of misunderstanding. He and their Boss seemed pretty exclusive, last they checked. And did Frankenstein even have any relatives?

Frankenstein adapts smoothly to the misunderstanding, allowing a fraction of his desperation to show through in his expression.

“Here, wait just a minute. I’ll see if I can get her cell.”

***  
There is no mistaking the woman as she enters the bar. Her eyes drift automatically to the man who had summoned her as she makes her way over. Strangely, she seems to resemble Frankenstein in more than her outward appearance. Her tired eyes betray tension and anxiety.

“Hey, baby,” their assistant asserts smoothly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I got your brother here, says you’ve been hard to reach lately. Now I’m gonna go grab us all some drinks and maybe you two can get this all figured out.”

“Who are you and what do you want,” Diana whispers harshly as the man flits over to the bar, eyes sharp as she surveys their group. “...Are you with them?”

“I need your cooperation. You were with a man recently; tall, dark hair, red eyes. Where is he?”

Impassively, Diana turns on heel and strides back toward the exit. Frankenstein is upon her almost before she’s moved from the table, his hand firmly grasping at her sleeve.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’ll never look for you again. Please, I just need to find him. I need to know what happened and where he is now.” His own desperation weaves softly with his words.

Diana looks as though she might dissolve into tears as she turns back to face him, practiced composure cracking. “I can’t tell you. They have... They said they wouldn’t hurt him if I did it. I… I thought that I was going to die. I’m sorry.”

“I can get back whomever they have taken, I just need to know where I can find them.” Frankenstein’s voice has adopted a consoling edge, sympathetic though he can spare no sympathy. If fault and blame are to be assigned, they belong to the Union and to himself, not to this pawn. Drawing her slowly back to their table, he pulls out a chair and gestures for her to be seated. Hesitantly, she accepts.

Sensing the fragility of the situation, M-21 hurriedly waves at his friend to stay away. Frowning and rolling his eyes, the man diverts his path to find a new seat elsewhere.

From Diana’s confession, the picture begins to unfold. She lacked knowledge of her target, but had received very specific instructions on how to subdue him. Drugging Raizel’s food had been a last ditch effort on her part, as she’d been instructed to seduce him and drug herself. She clearly held no real understanding as to why. A disposable pawn, perhaps they’d never intended to return to her what they had taken.

Takeo’s hand is on her shoulder before the others can even think to relate her story to their companion’s background. Frankenstein’s gratitude for his intercession is immense, as he can only soften his own demeanor so much under the circumstances. With their promise to retrieve and return her son and their apparent lack of retribution upon her admission of guilt, her cooperation is secured.

***  
Not long after, a call is answered. The man accepts her desperate offer of companionship in return for the safe return of her missing child. He had been meaning to tie off that loose end, anyway.

***  
“Laboratory E3-24, what is your status?”

“The laboratory has been temporarily locked down, Sir. A test subject has escaped, but we are currently in the process of subduing them. The issue will be resolved promptly and with minimal anticipated impact to productivity and deadlines.”

“I was not aware that testing had progressed to the point where subjects were liable to act out.”

“No, Sir. They have not. The test subject is newly acquired and poses atypical containment challenges. We have adapted protocol accordingly and anticipate a prompt return to normal operations.”

“What atypical challenges does this subject pose? Send over all relevant data and documentation. Elimination may be a more efficient option.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sending the files over to you as we speak. The subject is a Noblesse and was initially difficult to contain. I would like to reiterate that we have adapted our containment protocol and anticipate a swift resolution to the issue and return to normal operations. The subject is valuable and I would prefer to forgo elimination at this point.”

“... … ...You encountered a Noblesse in your region and failed to contact me directly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Frankenstein, always losing Rai, always having to deal with the Previous Lord. At least they had a pleasant intermission. Also, someone should really fill the Lord in on current events, or he’ll likely just keep needlessly pushing his shipping agenda.
> 
> So, this is a bit obscure, but have any of you read ‘The Name of the Wind’? Dana/Diana is a teensy tiny homage to Denna/Dianne/Dinnah/Dyanae/Dinael/Dinay/Dianah/(etc, etc). And yes, I know that Denna wasn’t *technically* a prostitute.


	10. Chapter 10

He navigates the many levels of the underground lab in no particular order, picking a new numbered floor as strikes his fancy, following the flare of promising auras. No elevators bother him as he flits from floor to floor, a single light fixed on a painted number marking each shuttered passage along the elevator shaft. Here he finds containment cells, facilities for cleaning and cooking. There, rooms with hundreds of blinking machines, screens all glaring the same locked image at him brightly from the shadows of their softly whirring confinement. Here again, suite upon suite of empty offices centered around conference rooms and sparsely furnished lounges. All the comforts of Frankenstein’s own living room, though not nearly so richly appointed. And of course, an extensive series of sterile, tiled rooms, some set up like great stages of entertainment, others arranged privately and secluded from visitors. Vast refrigerated rooms with doors that vainly seek to prevent his entrance radiate a cocktail mix of faint auras, an echo of the lives they once held, once belonged to. Body parts, vials of blood, and whole corpses all lie preserved in a quiet, locked freezer, much like the one he’s encountered in Frankenstein’s own kitchen but on a much grander scale. Stocked full of ingredients. With a quiet sorrow for the lives that have been lost, the Previous Lord destroys these vast holdings, disintegrating them and demolishing their cold rooms.

No one inhabits these places, the dozens of buried floors notably empty. 

The first handful of places he'd explored had been sparsely populated with fearful personnel, huddled together in closets and dark rooms, lashing out at him like rabid beasts. He'd inspected each of them, holding them briefly within the iron vice of his own will, before setting their souls to slumber as he did with the members of the first lab. They had yielded nothing new with regards to Raizel. After the first few floors, all the rest had been conspicuously devoid of life.

He’d noted the frantic evacuation taking place around him, allowed the harried beings to shuffle up or down their stairwells as they liked, gathering purposefully at two distinct points. He can feel the range of wide emotions radiating from each jostling group, though exact intent and individual thoughts are too vague to interpret through the veil of distance. The rest of the facility is entirely still. 

It might be unnerving if he wasn’t so accustomed to his own sparsely populated castle. 

Up was presumably the only way out, and the ones sequestered above him don’t seem to be leaving. From the minds of the few humans he _has_ encountered, he’s gathered that they will not be permitted to leave during this apparent state of lock-down. That they are all, in fact, locked _in_. Their apparent lack of action allows him to take his time, to explore everywhere he could care to in his search for answers. He will interview them all, of course, but each in their due time. 

After all of his digging, after forcing open each door in the long, long shaft until only two remain, the only real decision left to him is whether he would prefer to venture up to the topmost floor first, or down to the very bottom level. From what he can gather standing so far below, the souls above him appear to be many and bristling. The ones below, further down still… are more difficult to read.

Curiosity peaked, disgust and sorrowful anger flowing through him, he drops down once again through the gaping maw of the elevator shaft, the open space of each door he’s already opened disrupting the air rhythmically as he falls.

With a tremendous, echoing _splash_ , he touches down in the brackish water and shifting black oil pooled at the bottom of the shaft, bare feet feeling out the cold metal of abandoned tools and other _things_ beneath the water. Things that had slipped between the cracks and fallen away, lost and forgotten, even in such an apparently new facility. Already irrecoverable. 

Abruptly his head snaps up. There are humans gathered below him, yes. But they are not accessible through this last portal. There is still another way for them to go, and for him to seek out and use to follow. But this is not what has garnered his attention.

A warm glow of _Raizel_ flares faintly from behind the lowest set of locked metal doors. And with it, a small swallowed scream echoing silently in the space of his mind.

  
  
  
  


***

On a worn concrete platform pressed tight to the outside of a small, aging apartment building, Diana waits alone and resolute. She knocks firmly at a numbered door, movements mechanical as though viewed and controlled distantly and from an outside perspective. Stiffly, she waits.

A man of middling years and harsh, unkempt features opens the apartment door wide to admit his visitor. Her mildly familiar face is taught with anxiety, she puts up a brave showing nonetheless. A grin splits his face. Wide, too wide. A subtle showing of teeth amidst the stubble. 

Diana dips her head, hiding her expression under a tumble of golden tresses, passing quickly over the threshold and under the outstretched arm of the Union lacky who haunts her waking nightmares. She surveys the sparsely furnished apartment, darkly illuminated and small, the blackness speaking of open doors and hinting strongly of secrets. 

A younger man lounges easily across a broken-down couch. He raises a lanky arm to her in greeting before flicking off the television and coming easily to his feet. 

“Where is my son?” she asks once fully inside, rising again to her full height. Her voice is low but steady.

“About that…” The man holding the door releases it, turning smoothly to breathe against her neck. His breath smells vaguely of mint. Her skin crawls. “I think you’re supposed to go first, considering our agreement.”

Diana nods impassively, still facing away. With hardly any movement, she draws something small and thin out of concealment. Wordlessly, she sinks it into the man’s gut.

“Oi!” The rangy agent by the couch lets out an awkward little squawk of alarm, the leer abruptly melting from his face. His eyes go wide as the door swings open, having never been allowed to fully shut. 

A second golden-edged figure stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the bright glow of apartment security lights. He laughs, an eerie sound entirely devoid of humor. And then he goes to work.

As the bulkier agent sinks to his knees, eyes lolling frantically in panic at his paralysis, his taller companion lashes out in adrenaline-fueled, reactionary panic. He lands a clumsy blow against the man tearing towards him, but his gun is ripped from its place of concealment before his fingers can even brush the cold metal. A hand wraps around his neck and he finds himself abruptly delirious, his head ringing and throbbing with the force of an apparent blow. His back is pressed to a wall with such force that the drywall gives and crumbles around him.

“Where is Master?”

The words don’t make any sense, the tone is warped away and lost. It echoes and refracts in his rattled brain, dwindling away into nothing.

“Look at me. Where is the man you took? Slight, dark hair, red eyes. Where did you take him?”

Finally, it clicks. He answers automatically, his own voice strangely foreign, “The new Union lab, we took 'im over to E3.” His eyes regain enough focus to take in the cruel twist of the blonde man’s lips, an animal snarl revealing pointed teeth. They slip back up to stare into hard, stormy eyes.

“And the child?”

“Same. They’re low on material right now, so they said for us to bring in whatever we happen across. We took the kid to the lab, too.”

“And the location?”

“Uh, um, sure, let me draw you a map or something. Just… set me down for a second. Um, you got a pen?”

“There is no need. Picture it, give me the address.”

These thoughts appear crisply and suddenly in his mind, surfacing like prophetic phrases in a magic 8-ball. And then his world goes black.

The same set of questions is posed to the puddle of a man lying helpless on the floor, his answering memories compared methodically against the first set, cross checking the data. Having confirmed that both men hold roughly the same recollection and understanding of events, Frankenstein compels this one to sleep as well. 

***

It is all he can do to leave them alive. 

At the description of his Master he'd seen everything as they'd seen it. A flashbulb recollection of events transpired. How they watched him, discussed him, _plotted_ . He bore witness to them as they'd slipped Raizel quietly away from the place where he'd been drugged. Bound and gagged him, injected him with god-knows-what. Repeatedly, though he was already unconscious. _Struck_ him, for their own approximation of 'good measure', dealing paranoid blows to his head and a few adrenaline-fueled kicks to his body. All of this before stuffing him into the trunk of an unassuming car and delivering him over to Frankenstein’s worst enemies. 

A slight tremor runs through his hands as he punches in the address, internally reviewing the unconscionable list for which they’ll soon receive reckoning. He clears a mistake in his typing and continues. 

His stomach turns and his chest tightens. His phone seems oddly far away, as though he is viewing it from over his own shoulder. The sound of his own blood rushing through his ears is drowned out under waves of sickening, jeering laughter amid screams. _You can have them later_ , he offers, a bit detached. As separated from his own present as he possibly can manage while continuing to function. _I still need them, in case something goes wrong or they've moved Master somewhere else._

But he knows that’s not truly all of it. The great bulk of it, but not all. He knows because Dark Spear knows and is echoing his own thoughts, holding a mirror to the guilt which goes so intimately hand in hand. His Master was so abused because he himself had had the gall to leave him alone and undefended. In seeking to prevent Raizel from using his power in a fight, in granting the trio the agency to act with him, he had placed his Master in a position to be hurt and taken. He had played his round poorly, had failed to secure the person who had come to represent both his queen and his king, had thoughtlessly removed all other relevant pieces to the other side of the board. 

He holds on fiercely to his own self-loathing, a familiar thing throughout the course of Raizel's long absence. But the situation he finds himself in now is nothing at all like how it was then. Now he accepts these feelings and then swallows them down like a bitter medicine. Never fighting against them, not permitting himself to sink, but holding them separate from his thoughts. Because while they are true and awful and earned, this time is different. 

This time, he has a lead. 

***

While Frankenstein queues up the location on his phone, his employees, accompanied by M-21’s burly new friend, restrain the two unconscious Union agents. The stray gang member leads Diana away and out of the apartment, bowing her out and offering his arm as though in the presence of visiting royalty. Other associates rush in to move their captives and clean the apartment of evidence. Judging by the pictures on the shelves, these men aren’t the rightful tenants here.

Tao, Takeo, and M-21 wait for Frankenstein at the door, expressions dark but ready. Frankenstein reins in the urge to offer up an unmitigated parting kick to the bound men, opting to save them both for later, for when he can afford to _take his time_. After a dozen or so lifetimes of living with Dark Spear, such impulses are well under his control. He leaves them to be picked up by a couple of overtly eager gang members.

With their leads and their witness tucked safely away, Frankenstein and his modest retinue of modified humans depart without further delay, quiet and tense as they bound away towards the point indicated by the bright screen of their map. Darkness obscures their movements, the phone a shooting star in the night.

  
  
  
  


***

“Okay! Our orders have been confirmed. The Third Elder will be here soon, we’re to regain control of the situation and contain the subject before he arrives.” The man in charge keys in the override code and a handful of heavily armed and armored men board the elevator, gas masks in place. Silence fills the crowded first floor as the twin doors slide shut, the other Union members tense and uncomfortable in the wake of their passing. Displeased at being less-heavily guarded, themselves. Another such team, similarly outfitted and vastly greater in number, begins the slow trek down the stairs. 

In a secure control room on the topmost floor, important people watch as personnel descend. They speak lightly, their moods high and optimistic. Gas sinks heavy and quiet through the vents in the rooms below. Distanced from the scenes they view through what cameras remain after the Previous Lord’s adventure, they observe as their teams of security guards begin their slow descent.

***

In a small, sterile room with a strange atmosphere, a pair of white-coated lab technicians peer hungrily down at a computer screen, set close to a surgical table holding the body of an immobilized elementary school child. 

"Here, relay this info upstairs. It's promising! Looks like his body isn't rejecting it. The numbers look good. Great, even." The woman brushes back short dark hair to reveal dark, victorious eyes. 

Her markedly more disillusioned companion cracks a wry smile. "Fan _tastic_ ! Thought we might have to resort to trying this out on some of our coworkers if it didn't pan out. Boss _really_ wants to justify holding onto this latest subject."

"I mean, wouldn't you? I can't believe we got our hands on an _actual, living Noblesse_! I mean, how do you even pull that off? Just look at the aura coming off this kid! It’s practically off the charts! Can you even imagine the progress we could make with a full series of mature subjects?" Her eyes seem to glaze over as she considers the possibilities. 

The man next to her frowns suddenly, concern for their situation resurfacing in the wake of their success. "... Hey, do you think they've-" 

His words trail off at the metallic grit and clang of forced machinery, audible over the soft operational whirrs and beeps issuing from their medical equipment. Not emanating from the direction of the dozen or so employees unlucky enough to have evacuated downstairs, having been caught below the apparent containment breach. No, the noise echoes down their own hallway. It sounds close.

"Actually… I'm guessing not." A muscle in his jaw tenses and he immediately rushes to complete his task, pressing the appropriate buttons to report their findings on the wired office phone. "Yes. Yes, that's correct, the initial test was a success, the file should contain all of the relevant data. It looks like the subject has found his way down here-- Understood." 

He and his partner both turn to gaze in fascinated horror as the locked door of their makeshift surgical room swings quietly open. 

A graceful figure of contrasting darkness and light stands before them in the doorway. Red eyes glint unnervingly, hypnotically. The finely wrought features of his elegant face are marred with stern displeasure, though obscured in part by an elegant veil of black hair. The subject stands tall and unguarded before them, regally commanding their undivided attention despite his ridiculous state of undress. An unbuttoned lab coat hangs loosely over slim shoulders, the man's lithe build and undignified experimental uniform bared to them in self-righteous apathy. Muck and filthy water drip from the hem of his white coat, running down the alabaster skin of his legs and trailing behind him in a distinct pattern of footprints. His movements and presentation give off the impression of deliberate intent, as though this is a being reveling in his own apparent impact on his surroundings.

It is all they can do to remain standing. 

His aura bleeds black from his frame, and they fall roughly to their knees before the escaped Noblesse. These two, he does not spare. The Previous Lord extinguishes their souls like a human might switch out a light.

With a mixture of fury and sorrow, he turns his attention toward the human child. He removes the mess of tubing and wires, familiar now with such attachments. Removes the mask, removes the straps binding him to the table. Gently, he prods at his mind, feeling out his soul without rousing him from his drugged sleep. A familiar red aura burns through the small figure like a fever. Raizel’s eyes close in lament. The matter has become complicated.

_“Frankenstein, I would ask for your advice.”_

Abruptly, the Previous Lord stiffens. As usual, Frankenstein’s response is immediate and his tone is severe. But that is not what garners his attention. The dozen or so uncomfortable human souls sequestered somewhere below them have all gone abruptly still.

Wordlessly, the Previous Lord gathers up the sleeping child, cradling him easily to Raizel’s chest. He disappears back down the hall, slipping slightly along the path of his own wet footprints. He races against the rising smoke, hanging acrid and heavy in the air.

At the end of the hallway, he skids to a stop. A slightly odd set of double-doors sinks fully into view through the gaping rectangular hole in the wall.

Raizel’s lips thin and his forehead creases in concern. The Previous Lord’s own inky blackness is lightly dispersed and recovering from use, still gathering and reforming around him. Red reaches out to red, and under the surface, Raizel’s soul begins to stir.

The elevator doors slide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! I promise I won't leave you hanging for that long again without updating. <3
> 
> I use 'Noblesse' here to refer to all Nobles, the same way that characters out-of-the-know did in the beginning of the manhwa. I figured that a correction in classification wouldn't have spread to the ranks of non-Elder Union-members, hence the rampant use of the word in reference to the actual Noblesse. Just to be clear, they were not aware of who they had. 
> 
> Magic 8-balls were in vogue a bit before my time, but I've still gotten to play around with them on occasion. I should probably invest in one. I could ask it big, important questions like, 'did I make any glaring mistakes in this chapter', and 'do the people reading this like how it's going'. 
> 
> (In all seriousness, these are my big, important questions. Your comments make me happy.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even Dark Spear is keeping track of the body count in this one. :3

_"Frankenstein, I would ask for your advice.”_

Frankenstein flinches visibly at the sudden intrusion, the Previous Lord’s contact not unwelcomed but _unexpected_ . He responds immediately, not daring to slow down or stop his pace to indulge in the conversation. _“What is it? What do you need?”_

When he receives no response, he repeats himself. Louder this time and more insistent. Unabashedly desperate to find out what has gone so wrong that the Previous Lord would contact him for assistance after so pointedly blocking him out. He attunes himself as precisely as he can to the bond he has with Raizel, feeling it out for any hint or clue. Faintly relieved to find that strange absence where his soul meets with the Previous Lord’s shield. 

Frankenstein’s pulse flutters wildly as he abruptly brushes against a familiar light. For a brief moment, he feels the faint flare of Raizel’s presence.

And then it is gone, buried and sleeping. They’re getting close, and the Previous Lord is losing control.

  
  


***

The Previous Lord stands frozen, body poised from running, head cocked to the side at the unfamiliar sight of armored humans in gas masks. Instinctively, he reaches out with his power, holding them immobile and sealing their breath. 

The Previous Lord’s soul fragment spreads thin. The child in his arms coughs and gasps, eyes rolling frantically, his lungs burning with the potent poisons swirling thickly in the air. His desperate little soul latches on to Raizel’s, stolen energy calling out to its source. Raizel stirs.

“Fuck.”

The borrowed word whispers in the space around the armored humans as the Previous Lord withdraws. He pulls back into Raizel in a rush, pouring the blackness of his soul around his charges, doing his best to seal them and filter out the poisons that threaten to dispel his own consciousness.

He turns on his heel and runs back the way he has come, white lab coat swirling around him in the obscuring fog.

As he flees, the Union soldiers find themselves abruptly in control of their own bodies once more. Their lungs take in frantic gulps of filtered oxygen as they unload from the metal box, spreading out tactically. Some kneel behind clear plexiglass shields, providing cover. Others arrange themselves around them, eyeing their target from safety and unleashing a chaotic spray of bullets. 

The Previous Lord’s movements are slowed, the poisons working at him, slowing him like inebriation. The child coughs weakly and the Previous Lord decides to risk a shield to keep the opaque mist at bay. Not a moment too soon, as bullets ricochet and pit the sterile floors and clean white walls, deflected by the field of Noble energy. With each impact, the Previous Lord's focus and powers dwindle. His thoughts drift and splinter. He runs and runs, ignoring the unfamiliar feeling of _weakness_ , forcing each door open as he reaches it, searching. At the end of the hall, he finds the one he's looking for. Stairs, and while they only lead down, it's vastly preferable to remaining where they are. 

The metal door slams blessedly shut behind them. The small glass window shatters and the thunder of gunfire echoes in the small space of the stairwell, filling it with incredible noise. The Previous Lord forces the remnants of his feeble shield into the door itself, blocking off entry, muting the brutal cacophony.

Even here, opaque gas swirls and clings. Without pausing, he creates a small clean space in the air around them. He continues down the stairs.

Towards a subtle pull, towards a notable strangeness down below.

***

The rhythmic whir of helicopter blades precedes his arrival, drawing the attention of the four unauthorized beings currently alighting on the roof of the new high-rise office building. After a scant moment’s consideration, the blond one raises a hand, sending a splay of dark projectiles in his direction.

An explosion rocks his craft as the Third Elder intercepts them, a rush of white aura meeting violet-laced black. He blanches in recognition. “Don’t land, it’s not safe! I’ll handle this directly.”

The Third Elder hops down from his helicopter, white robes billowing around him, white braids trailing behind. He lands lightly on the roof of an office building overlooking the intruders.

When he scans the roof again for the blonde with the human soul weapon, the man is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he is faced with an aggressive barrage of bullets and a fiercely sprinting werewolf. 

He brushes off the werewolf’s snide taunts about his hair as he brushes aside the attack, focusing his own efforts on locating and removing the sniper. Waves of white aura intercept the werewolf at every turn, keeping him back, herding him. The Third Elder shifts his position so that the werewolf is between him and the general direction of the persistent gunshots, biding his time until the sniper is forced to make a significant move in order to resume fire. 

A distant glimpse of trailing violet and he strikes on instinct, trusting himself to be correct. To be accurate. White aura lashes out impossibly fast, a direct hit. The werewolf cries out. He notes the origin of a second anguished yell, tallying up the position of the dark-haired third intruder, noticeably absent from the fray as well, likely a tactician. He assumes that the blonde has moved on, as no further dark projectiles have sought him out.

A black vision unfurls and flares around the violet-haired assailant, absorbing his own white aura in a shield of dark wings and potent Noble energy. 

The Third Elder’s attention snaps back to the sniper. The werewolf seems equally taken aback. The unharmed gunman is staring at his forearm as though it is a foreign appendage.

The Third Elder takes a moment to remove himself from the center of the conflict, sensing additional powers at play, and concerned about the missing fourth attacker. He presses a button on his discreet earpiece, calling for backup.

“Laboratory E3-24, activate G-series 01-12. Send 01-08 to my location, keep 09-12 at the lab entrance. Be aware of a possible security threat, a blonde male with a class 3 weapon.”

The dark shield fades away into nothing. The Third Elder’s request is met with silence.

“Laboratory E3-24, do you hear me? Respond.”

Nothing. The Third Elder’s expression grows cold, his fear for his employees filling his stomach with ice. Grimly, distantly, he steadies himself. Then he lashes out broadly, explosions wracking the building, his efforts intensified.

  
  


***

Frankenstein pauses, sensing the abrupt blossom flare of the Previous Lord’s powers somewhere high above him as the building shudders around him. It disappears just as quickly. His brow furrows deeply in confusion, and he presses onward, reasonably certain that the Previous Lord has not yet left the lab with his Master. His suspicions are confirmed a moment later, as he feels something similar emanating from deep, deep below.

He sprints through the deserted main lobby, the civilian office workers all home for the evening, the cleaning and security teams evacuated under the pretense of a fire alarm. Frankenstein tallies this information, registering it as one less obstacle in his way. One less thing to occupy his thoughts as he rips and tears his way through thick metal blast doors, working his way into the Union lab. Dark Spear races up his arms, corroding his surroundings and lending him their strength.

Once inside, Frankenstein mows down the handful of unfortunate security guards who happen to be in his way. 

His requests and reassurances continue to garner no response from the Previous Lord.

Remembering the layout of previous Union labs, Frankenstein sprints in the direction of what he hopes to be the surveillance room. He rips the door off its hinges, and immediately makes his way to the person wearing the nicest clothing. Swatting aside her security as though they are not bulky guards of considerable stature, he hoists her by her collar and slams her down into a control panel, shattering instruments along with the severe woman’s cheek. “Where is the Noble?” 

The darkness in his hands digs into her skin, into her veins. The woman screams without words. 

Frankenstein withdraws Dark Spear back into himself, into his own electrified soul, and tries again. This time he shatters the woman’s jaw against the corner of the control panel when she refuses to answer. He lets her go, giving her a moment to collect her wits enough to tell him what he wants. 

Instead, she sits up straighter, dignified despite being pitifully deposited on the floor. She grins, eyes wide, blood dripping down her chin and filling up the gaps between her teeth. “You’re going to kill me. There is no reason to cooperate.” She hisses the words with difficulty, tiny droplets of blood spewing from her lips to splatter silently on the coarse dark office carpet. 

Frankenstein doesn’t humor the woman with a response, her fate entirely dependent on Raizel’s state and what assistance she deigns to provide. His attention shifts to the monitors, leaving her to the comfort of her own last stand. Dozens of screens flicker their reports, most consisting of nothing save a thick white haze. Movement catches his attention, a slow progression of Union security personnel, hands full of guns and shields and not his Master.

He continues to skim the wall of screens, his gaze drawn quickly to another cluster of activity. A confusing conglomerate of flashing weapons and opaque aura shield plays from several perspectives. Raizel under heavy fire and stumbling in a cloud of poison, someone small crushed to his chest. _Diana’s child?_

Hope and dread and a sick, wrenching fury all flood through him at once. He collects the floor number from the screen cluster and turns to leave, blonde hair trailing, his thoughts consumed by what he’s seen. 

He shouts reassurances and promises anew. Vainly through his broken link, keeping himself sane through the simple human conveyance of words as he tears himself away from the vision on the monitors. He flies with inhuman speed away and down the hall, Dark Spear piercing the inhabitants of the surveillance room almost as an afterthought.

_“I’m coming, hold on. Master, please hold on. Please, just give me a little more time, I’m almost there--”_

The room packed full of uneasy white-clad Union scientists grows eerily still as Frankenstein rounds a corner and into view, his appearance preceded by ominous screams. He unleashes his Lover, allows them to expand and devour, half a hundred jagged barbs eagerly rending flesh and bone. Their violet-tinged blackness makes quick work of the Union lab members, all so conveniently gathered up and unguarded. Like his Master. Like the little boy.

Frankenstein doesn’t spare this a second thought and garners no satisfaction, only absently aware of Dark Spear greedily dividing up their new additions. His Master had also been defenseless when he was brought here. He had not been spared.

He tears through the sealed doors of the elevator shaft and drops down through the void with an agonizing slowness, his fears endlessly looping through his mind as he passes floor after floor. His litany of assurances repeated like a prayer, the air growing dense and acrid with accumulated poisons. 

The Previous Lord’s power flares three more times above him. Questions flood his numbly whiring mind and he files them away for another time.

His fall disperses the thick fog around him, the elevator sinking half a floor at the impact. Frankenstein slips through the gap in the doorway as the fog rushes back up to greet him, the soles of his finely crafted shoes echoing ominously through the space of the hall.

He exhales, sending violet projections ahead of him, skewering the Union security team at the other end of the hall. 

_Leave their belongings._

Dark spear hisses and spits and does as they are told, leaving several piles of eerily empty and abandoned gear lying near a broken metal door. He pauses to secure a gas mask for himself before gathering two more in decent repair and descending the stairs, shuddering faintly as the scent of another human’s fear and sweat assault him within the confines of the mask.

***

The Previous Lord steps over the white-clad bodies littering the mirky enclosure of the observation deck. With his attention split in so many directions and no time to locate a proper way out, he settles for shattering one of the large viewing windows. White smoke billows outward, and the Previous Lord follows it, leaping out into the vast emptiness below. Each breath of stale, earthy, untainted air brings with it a measure of awareness. He dismisses his dwindling efforts at purification, judging this place to be relatively safe. Although admittedly larger than he would have expected, as he continues to fall. And fall.

He touches down with a greater force than usual, Raizel’s legs buckling at the unanticipated impact with the smooth concrete floor. Straightening quickly, the Previous Lord checks his hold over Raizel and the small human child. Raizel is trusting of him and does not resist, though his soul is growing restless with the interrupted glimpses of Frankenstein through their bond. The boy lashes out in all directions but lacks the strength to dislodge his seal. 

Satisfied, he gazes at the undecipherable creations around him, littered with unknown purpose across the flat, barren landscape. He stands in the center of a vast, angular cavern, paved in cold, echoing concrete. Distantly, he can make out silhouetted pieces of machinery. Metal components, things under construction, the purpose of which he cannot divine. 

A fresh wave of gunfire pits the concrete around him, a haphazard spray from above. The Previous Lord deflects it with a flick of Raizel’s hand as he moves them away and out of the open. Unthinkingly, he follows a subtle pull, a force that coaxes him to come closer.

  
  


***

The last of the Union soldiers fire flagrant bullets through the missing window of the observation deck, heedless to anything else. Their only warning of additional company comes by way of an abrupt chill crawling over their skin. Dark Spear picks these three apart with unrestrained glee, drawing upon the fear, hatred, and blame that radiates from their newest acquisitions and reveling in it. Mirroring it. Amplifying it in a cruel parody of empathy. It decorates their myriad countenance like the flowers on a grave.

Frankenstein takes stock of the view from the deck, the haze in the room now considerably reduced. He climbs atop the control panels and finally lays eyes on Raizel, so small in the vast expanse he inhabits. His heart leaps at the sight, and he rips off his mask to shout his presence to the Previous Lord, finally in a position where he will not be ignored. 

His Master is walking steadily away towards an impressive series of containment tubes, all dimly illuminated and arranged for ease of access. Frankenstein closes his mouth, his guard abruptly rising. This is a new facility, and these experiments are not. They’ve been relocated. A mix of familiar and unfamiliar forms drift weightlessly in sedative concoctions, and something nags at the base of his skull.

One of these beings appears to be awake, two violet pinpricks of light shining dimly through the great distance, from a face trained towards his Master.

Inside his soul and in the palm of his hand, Dark Spear twists and scoffs in simultaneously vast jealousy and disdain.

_A human soul weapon inhabiting a body?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those tattoos? ;)
> 
> Franken has no chill and now he has no Master. I feel a tiny bit bad for the Union guys. But I’m also a fan of Dark Spear violence, so… I hope it’s still entertaining and fun.
> 
> Also, I know that the Previous Lord probably had red energy in canon, but I wanted it to contrast noticeably with Rai's. Also, also, the Previous Lord is dead. I can do what I want. (I say, with authority and confidence that I don’t actually possess.)
> 
> Edit: I was asked today how the Previous Lord is doing *things*. To answer, my assumption is that the Previous Lord has typical noble powers, in addition to a few special abilities like 'awakening' and creating seals for Rai. I figure that he is using his aura to do something similar. Noble power isn't exclusive to soul weapons, but this particular piece of the Previous Lord was a part of Ragnarok. I treat his power as though it is a tool. He can do some pretty intense things, but the scope of his power is limited by the fact that he is a minute piece of a whole. For example, an umbrella can keep a small area from getting wet. A piece torn off of an umbrella would be less effective at warding off water, except in very small amounts and in very specific circumstances. (Yeah, it's raining here.) Anyway, if anyone else was wondering about this, I hope this clears things up. (Feel free to ignore the confusing umbrella analogy, I just couldn't think of anything else right this moment.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and please feel free to comment. <3
> 
> Edit: Hey guys, the Previous Lord's Adventure is going to be on hiatus for a little bit. I'm not sure how long, but in addition to school work, (I already went to school online so it hasn't slowed down with the pandemic.) I just broke my foot pretty badly and am about to have surgery. Hopefully I won't be on pain meds for very long, but they make me a bit loopy and scatter-brained. So I'm going to have to be finished with all of that before I post the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I promise to post the next installment as soon as I am able. <3  
> (Updated March 23, 2020.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a roof and in a basement.

Takeo recovers from his astonishment after only the barest of moments, his training and experience taking over, telling him that any hesitation or distraction in this situation would spell death for his companions and himself. He assures the voice in his ear that he is unharmed and rushes to a new position, taking advantage of their opponent’s choice to regroup. 

Bringing his gun to bear on the retreating white figure, he resumes fire before M-21 has stopped gaping at him, grateful to Tao for shouting some sense into their less-disciplined friend over their communications link.

In situations such as these, he knows who he can trust. Hollow, heavy thoughts about their likelihood of taking down this overpowered new contender without Frankenstein are overridden by Tao’s lightning-quick chatter and instructions. 

“M-21, I need you to focus! Takeo says he’s fine, just worry about yourself. Okay! So it looks like the old Noble Lord gave us a little extra help. Takeo, can you confirm?”

He takes the moment while voicing his confirmation to dart forward to a new position.

“Why couldn’t he have just _told_ us-”

“No sense wondering about that, M’, I need you on the enemy. Okay! We each have two tattoos, I assume that gives us each two chances. Except for you now, Takeo. Still, though! That’s more than we normally get!” Tao’s cheerful optimism is almost infectious.

“We fuckin’ _earned_ ‘em!” M-21 darts forward, clearing the gap between two rooftops. “Pandering to that selfish, inconsiderate ass-”

“He-ey M’, save it for this weird white haired dude we’re up against.”

Takeo smiles a little despite himself at the fresh slew of insults, now appropriately directed at their enemy. He shifts his position again to take advantage of M-21’s fierce barrage, his friend lashing out brutally with raking claws. Takeo’s own enhanced speed allows him to adjust his shots to follow up M’s rapid movements, keeping their opponent cautious, if nothing else. He takes another step out, adjusting as they move.

Out of nowhere it seems, their target sidesteps M-21, tipping him off balance and slipping past. Apparently aware of his own position, he wastes no time in launching another attack, a flash of white filling Takeo’s vision once more before a second barrier of inky wings flares up to repel it. 

Reeling slightly from the shock of light and darkness and the strange dip and surge in pressure around his skin, Takeo pivots and smoothly slips into a place mentally flagged as possessing better cover, his movements thoughtless and automatic. 

In another second, his senses return to him properly. The rush of M’s, “You _fucker_ , I’m right _here_! Don’t think you can ignore me!” and Tao’s, “M’, on your right! I’m coming to help. Keep him off Takeo!” fill him with a brief flash of warmth before he adjusts again to the situation, tucking his emotions away. 

His hand finds the small container of pills kept always within easy reach. At Tao’s instruction, he crushes one between his teeth, the vivid taste of strawberry bringing to mind his ‘sister’s demise and a flare of fury directed at this new Union representative. 

***

His smirk at drawing out the third combatant evaporates a moment later at the abrupt spark of recognition. DA-5 members? He’d read the reports, his own fingers discretely sifting through the other Elder’s encrypted files and communications. There had definitely been some information missing.

_The wolf, is he attached to Lunark or Maduke? The Twelfth Elder met his end in this country, was he betrayed by his own organization? Is the Noblesse causing problems in my lab a conspirator of the Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Elders?_

With another flash of white, he blasts the two now pressuring him up close. Two shields unfurl, and he uses the reflected energy of his own attack to expedite his retreat.

“Wait.” When the dark shields fade and the rubble and dust begin to clear, the Third Elder finds himself facing off against a gray-skinned DA-5 member and a poised werewolf, now separated by the gap between two rooftops. He visibly withdraws his own power, alighting purposefully on the pebbled concrete roofing, his hands held visible outside his white Union cloak. “On whose orders are you here?” 

"Who are you? On whose orders are _you_ here?" The wolf stalks him slowly but blatantly, still trying to hold his focus. 

His own expectations for the gunman are drawn directly from what he remembers of his files, supplemented by his own evaluations from the present conflict. While absent from view, he remains confident that the violet-haired man is in a new position, sights trained on him and in contact with his team. 

This is a calculated risk and he allows for it, confident in his own modifications to keep him alive. This chance to collect information is one that he won’t likely get again, and his opponents might just give him some to buy their ally a perfect opportunity for a shot.

"I am the Third Elder. Stand down." He slowly paces along the rooftop, his hands unthreatening, putting a little more cover between himself and where he anticipates the sniper. "Your masters will not show you mercy for failure, and they will renounce you once it becomes known that you attacked me. Cooperate and I will accept you into my protection. We're all fighting for the same purpose, don't throw yourselves away." It would be good to have the werewolf as well, even if he would eventually be discarded as First progressed with his plans. 

  
  
  


***

Raizel’s slim figure stands silhouetted against the ambient green glow of experimental containment tanks, a slight figure draped limply in his arms. Small on the far side of a vast, cavernous room. The vague outlines of unknowable constructs rise ominously around them, still and quiet and gargantuan. 

The soft glow continues up the wall above, hundreds of tubes stored away vertically in a place where they will garner little attention and provide minimal risk to the day-to-day operations above. Several dozen are arranged upright on the cold concrete floor, placed around a series of empty sterile tables and metal cabinets.

The Previous Lord walks forward as though entranced. The slap of his bare feet reverberates softly, the sound warping slightly in the strange atmosphere.

Clones made from pilfered Noble genetic material, but lacking any soul float limply, the familiar faces of his people peaceful in sleep. Beings modified and shot through with machinery await animation. Horribly combined chimera creatures made of human, werewolf, and Noble parts all uselessly and incompatibly combined, radiate the ghost of faint auras. 

One of these counterfeit creatures holds the glimmering spark of an artificial soul, freshly fueled by the lives of the dozen or so recently murdered Union agents who'd been unfortunate enough to have sheltered on the bottom floor, sealing their fates as expendable. This one's eyes are open. It is awake. 

A displaced piece of a soul himself, the Previous Lord feels a pull. 

Her regal violet gaze meets his own. A smile splits the face before him, eerie in its displacement. His Raskreia was never one to smile. When lips open wide, the voice that echoes in the space around them is nothing like his child’s, neither feminine or masculine.

_“Welcome… welcome! Welcome. Well-come. Come here!”_

Energy rushes out to meet him as the silent words cut through space. Pulling him forward, trying its best to embrace him, blurring his edges and ripping at his seams. Darkness seems to pool and ooze around the tank, its shadows subtly shifting, offset in disorienting violet.

Suddenly assured of the nature of this being and thoroughly disgusted, the Previous Lord turns to leave. But with his focus spread thin over his charges, and energy being eaten away, he finds himself unable to move.

Cracks shoot up the containment tanks holding empty counterfeit Nobles. Bits of lingering spiritual energy in the bodies of incompatible chimera siphon away into the newly-awakened and freshly-fed conglomerate soul weapon, as artificial as the cloned body it occupies.

The Previous Lord sighs, the expression on his face turning mournful. Raizel’s gaze shifts from the child’s still form in his arms, across the vast excavated space, and up to the observation deck, now impossibly far to run.

  
  


***

Alone, though not alone, a child stirs in the blackness. Conscious, but not awake.

“Who's there?” Kyong can sense someone else with him, someone who burns with a fever, someone very sick. Through some trick of his eyes, he cannot quite see. He reaches out with his hands, but all he can sense is a strange sort of heat. His body feels so strange.

_“Do you desire a contract?”_

The voice is quiet and somehow all around him. Kyong’s own confusion is answered in a series of thoughts and ideas. Sleep, red eyes, blood, a sudden conveyance of love and trust and openness. 

A gift to be taken. Life and power and energy to be shared.

Kyong recoils. This person is sick. Dying, even. He pushes this person firmly away from himself with what he would describe as both of his hands, some primal part of himself intrinsically afraid of their proximity to death. “No. Would making a contract help you get better?”

He can feel the gentle negative wash over him in response. _“I can awaken you. I can allow you to use what has been borrowed. You are in danger and I am not able to protect you.”_

The child pushes further away at the rush of burning thoughts and images now suddenly running through his mind, all so overwhelmingly much. “No! Let’s just get out of here. Let’s go home. When we wake up, I’ll get you some medicine. I’ll help you!” The child falls easily back into familiar conventions. His mom will be willing to bring home some Tylenol for his new friend, he's certain of it. 

_Tylenol for a fever…_ Kyong begins to relax back into true sleep. 

With that, the heat within him begins to recede, fading from his bloodstream. The warm presence inside of him, next to him, shifts quietly away, the darkness around them thinning. The fever dream falls away.

_“Welcome. Well-come. Come here!”_

An even stranger voice pierces his sleeping mind, and his body spasms, almost awake. 

  
  


***

The towering glass tube abruptly shatters, liquids pouring out in a rush. When the view clears, the artificial Noble stands tall in an empty tank. An acidic projectile flickers in her grasp, plucked out of her path with ease. Her expression sparks with interest as it shudders and flares, before turning quickly to distaste. Droplets run down the dark shorts and top of her uniform, stream down bare legs, drip down the tips of her long black hair.

The spear vanishes into nothing and her eyes shift instead to center on its source: Frankenstein, standing atop the distant viewing platform, the remaining glass windows freshly blown out. His arms are at his sides and hands slightly raised, uncounted projectiles now manifesting in the air around him. His own eyes flash and violet-black spears rain down.

Dark jagged spikes tear up from the darkness around the tank protectively in answer, and many more cylinders shatter and spill their contents onto the chilled concrete floor. When her view clears again, darkness both melting back to the floor and diffusing into the atmosphere with the harsh scent of ozone, the blonde man facing her is gone from his perch. Her eyes do not blink as they scan the vast room. 

When the man flashes again into view he is now much, much closer.

_“Welcome!”_ The being opens its mouth when it speaks, not mouthing the words but merely allowing them to leave in a crude pantomime of speech. 

The Previous Lord exhales, more focused now that the child is no longer burning red from within. Raizel is increasingly more insistent about waking and requires more of his attention to subdue, but for the moment he manages a single step before violet rushes back to grip at him, unwilling to relinquish its prey so easily. The darkness swirls possessively around Raizel’s bare legs, holding him as though magnetic. 

Perhaps sensing the proximity, Raizel stirs and pushes back at his now-captor. The Previous Lord loosens his hold around him, choosing to focus his efforts on repelling the tainted weapon instead. _“As much as I’m going to miss this, I think it’s about time for our Raizel to wake up.”_

The Previous Lord’s words cut through Frankenstein’s soul even as he asserts himself physically between his Master and this _thing_ , adding yet another voice to those already occupying his head space. It would be nauseating if he wasn't so focused on his prize. “Don’t you _fucking dare._ I’ll take care of this. _”_

Dark Spear hisses and spits at the rival weapon’s attempts to devour what they view as being rightfully theirs, flaring and flashing in Frankenstein’s fist as he brings them down to deflect a dreadfully similar creation hurtling straight for his face. 

Dark energies reach up for Frankenstein from below, only to be brushed aside by a jealous Dark Spear. Familiar violet sears him instead, repelling the foreign threat like the wrong end of a magnet.

He wastes no time throwing himself forward, keeping the corrupted being’s gaze to himself. He flits between ruined test tanks, appearing beside the false Raskreia, behind her, beside her again, taking swings as he goes. Drawing her attention away from the two precious beings and one insufferable imbecile that have not been able to safely clear her vicinity. She blocks his attacks with her bare hands, the flesh corroding and then bubbling back, a sickly violet sitting under the skin.

A dozen or so projectiles coalesce in the air around the Noble clone, mimicking Franken’s earlier technique. With a gesture as though freeing herself of responsibility, the barbed arrows fly, crashing into every place he’s recently occupied. Jagged spikes rise up from the ground, piercing metal and glass tanks and closing off several of the routes he's just used to reach her. For every dormant being she spears, violet blackness spreads and devours flesh and meager scraps of lingering soul alike.

_“You want to end this quickly, yes? Without getting your Master involved?”_

“What do you think-" Franken cuts to the side, narrowly dodging another wave of spikes, accepting a smattering of tainted cuts in shielding Raizel. “I’m doing?!” Fury ripples through him at the Previous Lord’s tone, somehow still toying with him even now. 

He slips through the attacks, potent but predictable, his opponent naive and learning as they go. Channeling all of the terror and rage of the past days at a single familiar face, doing his best to feint another attack from the side, he instead rams his blade through Raskreia’s chest, Dark Spear sinking in smoothly to the hilt.

Concentration shifted, the Previous Lord manages to take a few calm steps before his daughter’s eyes snap back to him, recognizing him as the largest source of energy within the vast room and unwilling to concede. An edge the artificial weapon now craves for ending the annoyance twisting under her skin.

Raskreia’s hands grab at the greedy weapon, her own energies already expelling it, ripping it from her flesh and tossing it aside without a glance. Sharp white fangs now punctuate her grin, the blood coursing from the wound vanishes into a rippling blackness that crawls up her skin. The wound knits and repairs itself, rotten at its core but apparently unhindered by Dark Spear’s attempt to devour her flesh. 

Forming again in Frankenstein’s grasp, Dark Spear keens in disappointment and frustration. 

_“Frankenstein, the child is now free and Raizel will soon awaken-”_

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ old man, I can handle this-”

_“Frankenstein…”_

Frankenstein stops short at the alarming shift in tone, turning without a thought to face his Master. 

The Previous Lord's words carry with them a strange lilting sorrow, heartbreaking in its transference of raw emotion. Like a father saying farewell to a son. 

Raizel tilts his head back, darkness rising up from within to repulse the mad violet climbing again up his skin, unfurling like dark wings from his back.

Frankenstein flinches as his Master’s familiar warmth tentatively brushes his mind, his pulse dipping, his reality growing hazy and white as panic grips him. He knows all too well what will follow. His beloved Master will rain blood upon their attacker, subduing and undoing this counterfeit abomination, an unworthy trade of life for death. 

A feral sound escapes his lips, purple and black now winding through his hair, caressing his face. Dark Spear and Frankenstein explode into a frenzy, one jealous of its intended prey, the other maddened by terror and outrage. Appearing everywhere at once, Dark Spear slices into their foe from a hundred directions at once, barbed and fighting futilely to retain their purchase and taste tainted blood.

A pulse of black energy and Raizel is released completely from the strange being’s grasp. Turning on his heel, the Previous Lord charges at the false Noble himself, his arm drawing back and swinging his empty open palm, the ghost of a sword flickering into existence in his hand, coalescing from the darkness within and surrounding Raizel’s form, repulsing Dark Spear’s energies and the false Raskreia’s, alike. His hand closes around it as the the Previous Lord reforms himself. Flashing, for a single moment brilliant, it connects with physical flesh and amorphous spirit. 

The blade stops short against the thin barrier of her skin, red eyes locked with violet, both beings similar in so many ways. Then it slips slowly through, shattering soul and severing body.

The counterfeit Noble’s arms drop from her shoulders, her shoulders slipping from her body. Shattered violet soul seems to hang frozen in the air above exposed blood and bone, the clone's body strangely still standing. Abruptly Dark Spear digs back in, no longer clashing with the dead creature it bites. Greedy and spiteful and loud, it rips and tears and leaves not a single piece.

Standing still, arm outstretched, Ragnarok melts away from Raizel's grasp. The long-occupying blackness fades, his soul flaring red.

Quietly, he blinks at the strange carnage before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Hiatus over, I’m back at it. Thanks for your patience! :)
> 
> Question: Why doesn’t Dark Spear hinder the clone’s regeneration?  
> Answer: Because it’s just cloned Noble genetic material, not something modified from Franken’s ~Olde Research~ with that particular fail-safe built in. The DS mimic *was* based off of Franken’s old data, but the kind that predates a DS-weakness, since that research predated DS’s creation. Obviously both First and Thirteenth had access to this, so I assumed First’s bff Third had access to it as well and was helping him with his projects.
> 
> Question: What’s up with the weird Previous Lord-energy imbued tattoos?  
> Answer: The PL actually heals and regenerates energy, unlike Raizel. When he found himself with enough to spare while he was spending time with the trio, he expended a bit to protect them in the future, aware that he can only do so much at any given time as an incomplete soul fragment. He can’t just radiate power all the time like he used to, but he can stash some away for later and let himself create more to replace what he gave away. Does this make sense?
> 
> Any more questions? Please ask! I tried to put a lot of thought into this so I might be able to answer. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Raizel blinks. Dark Spear sloppily devours the image of the Lord of Lukedonia a few scant feet in front of his face. Nothing of familiar Raskreia calls out to him though, and he shifts to catch the child now slipping from his apparent position in the crook of Raizel's arm. 

Frankenstein appears at his side as though summoned, making a small show of keeping the child from falling while subtly positioning himself to brace his Master. 

He softens at this show of attentiveness, the overprotective soul of his Bonded already rejoining with his own and flooding him with warmth, quietly checking him over inside. Meticulous. 

And then Raizel frowns, catching sight of his own attire. Beneath a sullied and torn lab coat he is clad in dark shorts and nothing else. It is the uniform of a Union experiment, the type he's seen broadcast in the restless dreams of his new companions, as much as he's tried to prevent such prying on his own part. 

Pieces slide into place. _Ramen at a restaurant. The Previous Lord urging him to remain asleep. His own blood flowing through the veins of another - now securely caught up in his grasp, but beginning to stir from such heavy slumber._ It isn't difficult to grasp the bones of what must have happened. With a thought, he reclothes himself. YeRan white - still Frankenstein’s, still giving himself up into his Bonded's vast care. 

Frankenstein’s hold on him tightens as a familiar mirthful voice pulls him from his thoughts. The faint shadow of a man coalesces from the very air around them, long blonde hair fluttering faintly in some metaphysical breeze. 

Silent curses spill into him, Franken’s thoughts now overflowing with regret for sparing their visitor from his weapon's great appetite. 

High above, the Previous Lord of the Nobles smiles patronizingly, sharp eyes settling with glee on Frankenstein’s hand as it rests possessively on Sir Raizel's slim hip. " _Aww_! It looks like you two have finally hooked up~" 

  
  


***

_Now when did that happen?_ The thought goes unvoiced. 

His existence is so faint now that he must make his next moves with care. Manifesting as even a portion of Ragnarok is draining to him, the split version of the sword held together for so long solely by residing in his dear Raizel’s sanctuary and making use of the pervasive sealing energies of the place. To cut down the counterfeit Noble as he had? He spares a quick glance at one of his own hands. Transparent.

He silently ticks through the list he’s been keeping in his own head, Frankenstein’s complaints and accusations (notably less-colorful in the presence of his Master) fill the back of his mind like the easy-listening smooth jazz of stereotypical elevator music. Raizel? For the moment, safe. Frankenstein? Enamored, _obviously_ , and for once fully aware of this and acting on it, if such intimate contact between the two is any indication. _Splendid_ ! Such relations should spell more company and less sacrifice for Raizel in the future - peacocks being such vicious, _territorial_ birds after all~

Waking up in a Union lab has left him woefully uninformed on the local human trafficking issues - after slashing their business as he had, he’d fully expected that group to be the one to abduct Raizel. A threat in appearances only, and just enough to perhaps remind that peacock of what he should be holding onto every night... _Oh, well - can’t predict everything_. 

He sighs, though not unhappily. _And along those same lines_ … 

His frown is slight, but still prompts Franken to straighten self-righteously, thinking his words at last to be effective, and Raizel to blink flatly, both privy to Frankenstein’s thoughts and perfectly aware that _no_ , the Previous Lord is almost certainly not listening. The family he’d been cultivating for his Raizel is certainly not as involved in this issue as he’d hoped, though as they are clearly somewhere genuinely dangerous, perhaps this is for the best. Aspiring to turn his little collection of local humans into a diversely colorful House for his Noblesse was perhaps a bit ambitious. But while on the subject of a family...

The shade's eyes drift from Franken’s flickering violet aura and where Raizel is subtly indulging in the closeness of his touch, leaning in slightly like a touch-starved cat. Down to the newest member of their group. _Strange_. The kid seems almost to resemble the two men standing over him; fine features, dark hair… As he watches, startlingly blue eyes blink open, meeting his own conniving stare.

  
  


***

When Kyong’s eyes slip open, his body is empty and cold as he’s never felt before.

He shivers.

He looks up into hypnotic red eyes as tremors wrack his body. 

_“You have done well.”_

A new voice splits his thoughts, cheerful and animated. The man’s mouth quirks up in an easy smile, but does not move when he speaks.

_“Will you allow me to stay with you? I can repair what damage has been done by these Union humans, and keep you safe.”_

“I don’t want a contract.” The child’s voice is almost petulant, standing firm on what he’s already decided.

_“And I’m not offering one~”_ The Previous Lord’s smile widens. _“I would mostly rest nearby in case of need. But my presence would ensure you the company of the one you’ve already met and his contractor who looks after him. They are both rather lonely and I have plans, you see.”_

  
  


***

"Don't think you can just float there and ignore me like this! You refused to tell me where Master was and _he almost died_! I demand to know what you were thinking. Tell me and then make yourself useful by-" 

Frankenstein’s skin crawls as the showy bastard disappears instead of responding. His own insults and accusations have apparently been wholly and passive-aggressively ignored over what he can only assume to be some sort of unethical deal struck with a human child - a child he'd dearly like to get back to his _own_ lab, if he'd been at all tampered with in here. Not to say anything of how he’s itching to check every square inch of his Master under every piece of medical equipment he owns. 

He shuts his mouth and observes. 

There is a gentle rearranging as his Master sets the child down - the kid now wearing something more civilian and typical. A ruby stud now set in his ear glints brightly where before there was nothing as he turns to address them, his tone and lax posture unnervingly familiar. 

"Oh, don't look at me like that, I’ll go to sleep in a moment." Frankenstein’s mouth closes again without a word but his eyes are no less narrowed for the assurance. "I'll admit this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I first started out on this little adventure, but I can't pretend I’m not pleased by the outcome."

Franken bristles, his teeth clenched so tightly that Raizel is concerned they might crack. _Adventure?! Raizel was_ taken _, you unforgivable ass!!_ His thoughts are etched into his very bones, the set of his body is practically screaming.

The child brings his small hands together in a clap that rings with a gleeful finality. A motion that’s long since become associated with such ludicrous invitations as living in a castle and taking on the responsibilities of a future lord. “But I digress. Congratulations on the adoption, dear Raizel! Now you’ll have to be sure to stick around long enough to see him as an adult. And think of all the grandchildren! I wish _I’d_ gotten to see grandchildren. And great-grandchildren as well…” A mock tear is wiped from a wide eye with a slightly pudgy hand. 

“What-- _You can’t just take somebody’s kid and raise them as your own_!” Frankenstein finally snaps. Raizel stands impassively alongside his Bonded, lending him the reserve to remain contained, if not quiet.

“Of course you can! How do you think I got my dear Raskreia?” The Previous Lord laughs; a bright and joyous sound, both eerie and strangely fitting when conveyed through the child's voice. “I work with what I’m given,” and his modesty is entirely false. 

The earring flashes brightly, and suddenly Frankenstein and Raizel are faced with a youthful expression of shock and confusion. Raizel sifts through hazy memories of when he was asleep while Franken struggles to swallow down all the uncouth things he’d like to say to the now-dormant soul-fragment. “Kyong,” and Raizel’s voice rings with authoritative calm.

The kid sobers at the familiar voice and takes an unconscious step forward, tentatively reaching out for the offered hand. Memories of the burn of a rampant fever surface even over the strange deal he’s just struck, and he hesitates before brushing experimentally against Raizel’s skin. 

Cool to the touch. 

Kyong smiles in relief, taking Raizel’s hand.

The three turn their sights on the exit, Dark Spear now quietly tucked away to savor all that they’ve recently taken in. 

  
  


***

Frankenstein, Raizel, and Diana’s missing child emerge at long last from the lab, shedding pilfered masks as the last of the cloying white smog still clings to their skin. Rai stands with dignity, Franken carrying the exhausted body of the now genuinely-sleeping child while keeping very close to his Master, wary that he might not be letting on to his true exhaustion.

They linger for a moment at the last heavy security door, Frankenstein pausing to cover his hands in Dark Spear. The remaining security teams had not been encountered on the way out, and Franken hadn't been keen on keeping his Master down in that hazy hell any longer than absolutely necessary. 

Still, he isn't the forgiving type. He brings his violet corrosion to bear to seal them inside. 

"Frankenstein…"

Dark Spear flicks off like a light and he blanches at such casual and cavalier flaunting of his own broken seal. This quickly hardens into a fatal sort of acceptance; it had all been worth it, and he will gladly accept his due. Penitent, but not apologetic. 

"Apologies, Master. I will accept any punishment you deem appropriate for my disobedience." Frankenstein’s bow is as low as he can manage with Kyong still slung over his shoulder. 

Raizel's faint blush goes unnoticed, his response delayed by the sheer magnitude of the borrowed feelings spilling over into him. He can hardly bear to look. "Raise your head, Frankenstein," he finally commands. 

Whatever else that may have followed is cut off by a low rumble in the walls around them, reverberating through the very foundation. A quick series of worrying sounds follows from somewhere higher up. 

***

The top of the building is cracked and crumbling, with portions of the roof caving in. The plazas and roadways below are choked with debris. Dust swirls around them, but the obscured visibility does nothing to mute the ferocity of the fray. 

Bullets fly; a steady, deliberate staccato that ricochets disorientingly against the taller buildings nearby. Something flashes and crackles like lightning. A guttural yell cuts through everything else, primal and unreserved, only to be met by a pulse of something soundless, displacing the very air.

Two new figures manifest between gaping holes in the pebbled concrete, the air now clear as though in deference. The sounds of conflict evaporate, and the trio of modified humans rush to flank their boss and the reclaimed Noblesse. 

The Third Elder composes himself. Blue eyes narrow, and he quickly evaluates the missing heavily-armed blonde. He can only assume that the man with red eyes is the Noble who’s been wreaking such havoc in his lab. The child that the blonde one is carrying, however...

“This building is yours?” Raizel steps forward as his wings begin to unfurl, vast and red and born of nothing. Frankenstein darkens, not blocking his Master’s progress, but bowing his head in defeat. Truly, it had been too much to hope that his Master could avoid making any judgments in a situation such as this.

“It is…” Thick white bangs fall forward to mask his expression, his head angling downward as he stares at the child. “Is that a human?” Suspicions pierce him and his heart begins to sink. His own code of ethics limits subjects to non-humans and willing participants, such a subject should not have been present on the premises. 

Raizel nods, and the Third Elder darkens. “And my people?”

Frankenstein steps quickly forward, open to any chance at diffusing the situation. His household is torn and bleeding and exhausted, Takeo impassively clutching at a cruel wound to his thigh and M-21 attempting to catch his breath quietly at his side. Tao is battered and bruised, though busily shooting worried looks at his companions. The sky is bruising over as his Master gathers power. Dark Spear, insatiable after even all of that, gnaws and whispers at his soul, eager to be let out. “Most are dead, but you could still save a few if you hurry. Your people flooded the basement floors with poison; I suggest you take one of the masks we left at the entrance.”

Raizel blinks again and the sky returns to blue. The Third Elder’s thoughts have been quite clear - their opponent has not transgressed against power, even if he has fought against his companions.

The Third Elder looks up, revealing the pensive set of his features, the last transmissions from his lab resurfacing in his mind. _This is not an opponent to take lightly. None of them are_. His gaze drifts back to the man with the soul weapon, so similar to that which he’d developed so closely with First. He knows his own lab policies are not consistent with those of the other Elders. If that is to be his saving grace right now, then so be it. His own powers are not suited to such direct conflict.

He nods, accepting the chance to mitigate his losses over settling the score. 

No one moves until their opponent is gone, dropping off the edge of the building like he was never even there. And suddenly Tao is rushing up to Raizel, M-21 and Takeo not far behind. 

“It’s good to have you back, Sir!” Tao throws his arms around Rai, the reserved Noble blushing at the breach in his personal space.

“Are you okay? Did they…,” M-21 trails off, uncomfortable.

“Welcome back!” The smile in Takeo’s voice reaches all the way to his eyes, his pain locked away and forgotten.

Raizel eyes their wounds, his expression shifting sadly. The sniper turns away, hiding the worst of his wounds from view, Tao coming to his aid the moment Raizel’s intent is apparent. “No, no, we’re fine! This is nothing. Boss’ll patch us up, we’ll be better in no time!” Tao is quick to interject, his voice an energetic plea.

“Please,” and the look in M-21’s eyes is pitiful. How many times has the Noblesse sacrificed himself for them already? Even now, when he is only barely returned to them, they must ask him to refrain.

Frankenstein’s expression is warm as Raizel, outmatched and outnumbered, gives in to their will. Suddenly eager to get his little clan out of the open, he adjusts the child in his arms and orients them all back in the direction of home.

***

In the quiet throne room of a Lukedonian palace, a gentle breeze stirs Raskreia's hair. Irritation floods her as her bangs are tousled. And when it grows still, she is suddenly filled with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness. Of loss.

Her window is open and she doesn't know why. She can’t recall leaving it that way, or indeed, ever having opened it in the first place. Has she ever even looked through it before?

The moon rises heavy over a sweetly tended garden. Fountains softly serenade her in the warm night.

Frowning, she closes it once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit: By popular demand, Danielle is now Diana. No one else's name begins with a 'D', so hopefully that isn't too confusing.
> 
> A Raskreia clone with a weapon for a soul? Sort of like the Noblesse? The PL adopts? Hmm. HMM. (Okay, yeah, credit where it’s due: escspace came up with the idea first in ‘Dear Lord’.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thanks so much for sticking around this long. A couple of things: First, I forgot to include the last section to the previous chapter. Please go back and take a look, I apologize for messing that up. And second, I was wrong, it looks like there's going to be another chapter after this one. I didn't want to squeeze everything into one big tone-deaf mega chapter, so please bear with me as I separate it out. Thanks for being so patient!

Frankenstein stares down at the wallet-sized photo in his hand, fury twisting his features into something close to a snarl. His own face smiles playfully back, serenely self-satisfied and wholly ignorant of any mass-circulation. 

He flips it over. The note on the back reads:

Peacock 

Enforcer, Second-in-command 

Contact with any questions, in case of emergency. 

01x-9000-0000

_Well, that explains the missed calls, then._ It seemed their little conglomerate had become antsy in their absence. He'd tried listening to a message or two, but they all seemed to start off with, "Um, yo, Mr. Peacock, Sir, I-" and he simply hadn't been in the mood to deal with it just then. 

He isn't in the mood to deal with it now, either, but when he caught the man he'd vaguely recognized as being acquainted with M-21 handing a snapshot of his own face over to Diana at the bar? Well, he'll be back soon. He can deal with it then. 

The kid's preliminary tests had all come back normal, with no obvious issues left behind by the Union. He had been dropped off safely, and Diana had agreed to regular observations and checkups to confirm. 

No contract and no awakening, despite having held his Master's blood? As much as he really can't stand the Previous Lord for what he's done, he really _would_ have adopted Kyong had there been any need. The kid hadn’t used his Master, when there are so many who would. 

He tucks the photo away irritably, turning his sights once again towards home. 

  
  


***

M-21 paces back and forth across the tiled floor like a restless animal, impatient and anxious. Takeo sits at their small umbrella picnic table, polishing his favorite gun without really looking. It gleams like the summer sun, and still he goes over and over it, again and again. 

A soft sigh from Tao, and they both abandon their respective nervous habits. "A tracker and a kill-switch, same as the kid." His voice isn't grim so much as it is matter-of-fact. "I'll find out when Boss'll be back. If he's going to be much longer I should probably just take them out myself."

As Tao steps away to fiddle with his phone, M-21 tentatively replaces him, uncertain of how to act now that Rai is one of them. With the machine finally quiet, Raizel gracefully sits up, eyes meeting his own. 

M-21 looks away. 

_One of them_? Truthfully, that isn't quite the case. He'd caught a glimpse of Rai's wrists and they appeared as unmarked as ever. He still holds all of his memories, as far as they can tell. 

He hadn’t been an _experiment_ so much as the experimental material. A few quiet words from Rai had Frankenstein checking the kid over and over through different techniques. He wasn't a contractor, though. And the fever he'd gone on about was no longer an issue. 

But had they only taken blood? If the Union still had any, would the kind-hearted Noblesse go around offering his power to anyone unfortunate enough to receive an injection? 

"You have become like Frankenstein."

The softly spoken words draw his attention back to the present. To the lab that he and his companions have had the run of, clean, benign, and vaguely smelling of cookies. To the softly blushing Noblesse. 

_What, does he mean because I’m concerned? Who wouldn’t be._

When Frankenstein makes his entrance into the lab not long after, M-21 and Takeo slip quietly outside. 

  
  


***

His scalpel cuts a clean line through alabaster skin, blood briefly welling before being cleared away by Tao’s quick hands. 

Frankenstein only had to deliberate on the matter for a few short seconds before his course of action became clear and his resolve hardened into cold alacrity. Someone had _cut_ his Master and implanted vile things in him - he would waste no time in getting them out. 

He slices through flesh and inhibition alike, through his innocent Master who he could never want on his table. Dark Spear glimmers at the sight of such blood, and he ignores them. Still, the cold burn of their companionship is a solace; surely whoever did this has already been devoured.

_Fix them or join them, they do not care which._

An external calm fills him, reminding him of his company, muting the mutterings. His Master lies unnaturally still - does not flinch even as wiring is pulled from where it runs alongside muscle and veins. He's numbed the area, of course he has, but the procedure is not without pain. The evidence of Raizel’s tolerance twists at his gut - is he so used to such discomfort? 

_“I will make this up to you a thousand times and more. I will make you cry out in pleasure, in such a way that you cannot pretend you don't feel it.”_ And at long last his Master shows some signs of a reaction; a quickened breath, a spreading flush.

He sets the minute tracking device down on the metal tray with a resolute clack, it's signal already rendered inert by Tao's careful work. 

The 'kill switch', a capsule of something wicked connected to a similar signaling device, had not been deployed, even in the measures taken to secure Raizel as the Previous Lord made his way through the Union base. The higher-ups must have valued such a rare sample more highly than the entire staff of their facility, a judgment he cannot condemn as much as such actions disgust him. 

He vaguely wonders at how the Elder must feel, if his Master had judged the man innocent of what crimes he would punish. Not unlike how he had felt all those centuries ago when the Union had misused _his_ labs and research, he can only suppose.

With a few careful maneuvers, the surrounding tissue is pulled away, the offending machinery removed. And then he is carefully realigning flesh, securing it in place and bandaging it as he has done for the other wound, as much as it is unnecessary. One last blood sample, and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. 

Raizel's inquisitive eyes open once more, having remained closed and unflinching throughout. A courtesy, as Frankenstein had found it difficult to do such a blasphemous thing with his Master staring at him.

A few moments later and Raizel is seated quietly on a chair, legs crossed and observant as Frankenstein goes about his business. Doing this and that with his little sample of blood, starting up machines and entering in data. His Contractor’s demeanor has reverted back to something uncertain - he distracts himself with his work, unsure of what to say, lost in self-doubt and self-depreciation in all of his perceived failures. 

When at last he breaks away to present his Master with a tray of fresh cookies and tea, blond head bobbing in deference, Raizel lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. Haunted blue eyes meet crystalline serenity and Frankenstein feels no better for it. He flounders for a moment, trying to find the right words to apologize, to impart even a portion of his own crushing guilt.

Then he blinks, finding a warm confection pressed into his hand. 

"I was asleep," his Master offers simply. _There is no need for guilt, I am fine. I am here._ His Master takes a dainty bite from a cookie, allowing his enjoyment to press into his Bonded.

Frankenstein’s smile is warm and genuine. His cookie tastes of sweetness and absolution.

  
  


***

Tao is unsurprised to find his companions - Raizel’s Knights as they are - prepped and waiting for him at the front door. He nods, chemically sterile trackers in a sealed bag in his hand. Together they head out into the night.

Their search of the now-abandoned lab doesn’t turn up much. The surveillance recordings have all been wiped, any remaining personnel have been evacuated, poisonous gasses have largely aired out. Tao crunches the already-inert trackers beneath his heel as M-21 stares up into the cracked and empty remains of the only containment cylinder that’s shown any use in a mid-level basement lab.

The computers here have been fried like all the others. There is no scent of blood present, as much as he would never admit that he can sense that sort of thing in the presence of the ever-teasing Tao. Takeo notes carefully the blown-out fixtures on the wall, certain that this, at last, is the place. Methodically, he searches through every storage container and table.

They complete their sweep of the lab without incident, nothing of Raizel's has seemingly been left behind or spared of the Previous Lord's purge. And with nothing else to do, they head back, angling for their usual haunt over the house. (The three unanimously blanching at the realization that they might accidentally walk in on something if they returned home too quickly.)

It is nearing last call, but the barkeep welcomes them boisterously. Friends reach out to greet them, tales and questions and jovial well-wishes overflowing.

They drink in good company until well into the morning, the doors long-since locked against the deepening night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 01x-9000-0000 is the phone number written on the back of the original photo in the webtoon. It's not a familiar format (to me, at least), so I'm clarifying. <3 
> 
> Okay, so if *I'm* dealing with potentially dangerous sentient experiments, I'm giving them a kill switch, separate from any monitoring device. Because what's the use in knowing where your homicidal monster is located if it's just going to destroy resources when you go to bring it down? Upper management access only, can't have the research scientists panicking and destroying something above their pay-grade. u-u  
> (They can have access to the location and vitals, tho. I'm okay with that, hence the separate devices.)
> 
> Stay tuned! Next up is (what I intend to be) a fluffy epilogue. <3


End file.
